Alaska
by Anton M
Summary: For two years, Bella's had a cotton candy romance going on with her taciturn best friend. In her head. So after catching bits and pieces of Edward's unusual upbringing, Bella pays a visit to Alaska. AH
1. Day 6: Through the Ice

**Summary:** For two years, Bella's had a cotton candy romance going on with her taciturn best friend. In her head. So after catching bits and pieces of Edward's unusual upbringing, Bella pays a visit to Alaska. AH

**A/N**: This story is filled with bad descriptions (definitely), unrequited love (maybe) and dead rats (certainly). It's short, eyeroll-y and very facepalm-y. Don't judge. Much. Don't look for much depth, either, unless you want to land on sand expecting an ocean underneath.

: :

"Like you could ever—"

Not a crack or the sound of ice breaking predicts his vanishing. Freezing water splashes on her pants, Edward's head pops above water, spitting and coughing, and immediately, she lies on her stomach, head directed at him. He's gasping and choking. The weight of his bag pulls him down, but he throws elbows on the ice. Red-faced, wide-eyed and panting, he looks her straight in the eye.

"Stay back!"

She struggles but manages to back away, crawling and leaving a pattern on the snow, watching him as he tries to lift himself back on ice. For a split second, he raises his chest on the ice, but ice shatters beneath him. He coughs water.

"Let go of your bag!"

Wind whistles in her ears. She unwraps her scarf and ties a knot in the end while he tears off his hiking bag and hoists it on the ice. It dins where the bag falls, and Edward sinks under water. He sputters. Bella wraps the scarf around her arm and throws the other end at Edward, but, ignoring her effort, he continues his attempts at hoisting himself on the ice.

"Take it!"

"Don't be stupid," he replies, wheezing. "You're too light."

"Fuck you," she says. "Take it! Take a piece of ice and see if it sticks to the snow. Hold on."

Numb from the shock of freezing water, he complies, and with her help, manages to lift his shoulder and right leg on the ice. Flailing with his left one, he pulls himself fully on the snowy ice, crawls away from the hole and spreads out his limbs. He's hyperventilating. She's careful as she crawls closer to check on him. He's dripping wet and shivering, but he seems remarkably alert when she turns his face to look at him. His lips are a pale, bluish color as he blinks at her.

"I'm alright," he says, panting as he turns his head to watch the sky. "Just let me rest."

"No," she whispers, urgent when she takes off her mitten and feels the cold bite her fingers. When she places her palm flat against his wet cheek, he closes his eyes. "We need to go back to the tent. Just follow me. Don't let go of my scarf."

"Five minutes."

She strokes his face with her bare hand. "Do as I say."

"So bossy," he lets out, shivering, but when his lips tug into a small smile, she hides her hand in her mitten and kisses his cheek. He looks at her like he's hallucinating.

After four minutes of being exposed to the wind and snow, numb and confused, Edward steps in the tent after her. Frantic, she tears off his semi-wet, semi-frozen clothes, and he watches her, disorientated. His breaths are quick and shallow, lips blue, hands shaking. His teeth chatter. His violent shivering and wordless observing makes her tear off his clothes faster, and when he's in his boxer briefs, pale and quivering, she throws her sleeping bag inside his and pulls down both zippers.

"Lie down," she says, throwing off her own clothes as she places an Esbit solid fuel cube on an aluminum folding stand and starts melting snow. Meanwhile, she drags her own bag next to Edward and strips to her underwear. More than ever, she is glad for her athleticism. She has body heat to offer him.

His gaze is distant when she crouches next to him, wraps a scarf around his feet, and fills two bottles with warm water. She's decisive and quick, and when she's done, she sits on Edward's lower stomach and pulls the zippers up halfway.

"Drink this," she says, offering him a thermos filled sweetened warm tea. He takes a few gulps, grimacing, and lies back down. She pulls the zippers all the way up, tucks two warm bottles on his sides and under his arms. She lies on him, chest to chest, hugging him. He's freezing against her warmth. When his shivering becomes more violent, she slides one bottle lower, pours out the content of her bag and takes his temperature.

It's ninety four point five.

"Borderline stage two, Edward," she says against his ear. Any lower, and he'd need medical attention.

She sets her legs on either side of his hips which tautens their sleeping bags, and presses her chest against his as tightly as she can. She pokes and rubs his face, and when he opens his eyes, he looks at her with tenderness she's sure she's imagining. His cheekbones feel freezing, and when she presses her cheek flat against his short beard, breathing in his ear, she's sure he's boiling because no human could feel this cold. It's the kind of freezing when you start to confuse heat and cold, and if she is confusing it, his sense of hot and cold must've gone haywire.

She focuses on his rapid heartbeat to divert her attention, but then suddenly, his arms are on her back, and flat palms, although freezing and probably numb as ever, slide up and down her spine. His shivering grows more violent.


	2. Day 7: Morning

: :

She's not sure when he falls asleep, she only knows she must keep him hydrated through the night, and each time she wakes him up, he seems to be more aware of his surroundings. The storm whistles outside every time her alarm goes off, until one time when she wakes without an alarm, feeling stiff but warm, it's silent outside. Bella sneaks out of the tent and brings his hiking bag back, lays his (frozen) stuff out on her side of the tent, and after crouching next to Edward and observing how precious he looks when he sleeps, she strips, unzips their sleeping bags and joins him. He is, after all, using both of their sleeping bags.

Her nap is short, so she watches the material of their tent color as the sun rises. She listens to his heart beat until he clears his throat. He pulls back his hand from around her, looking uncertain and awkward. Bella hates it, so without a word, she unzips their bags and looks away as they get dressed.

He leaves to relieve himself.

Having returned, he grimaces and leaves the zipper of the tent open, and if at first she's sure he reacted to the rotten fish smell of the Esbit cubes, then the flash of pain that crosses his eyes as he stretches convinces her otherwise. He runs a hand over his face before smiling at her, aiming to assure her, but she's known his quiet (and proud) ways for just a bit too long to be fooled.

"How do you feel?" Bella asks, throwing on a long-sleeved T-shirt and a sweatshirt, pulling on gloves and keeping herself occupied not to sound too worried. There is little in this world Edward likes less than being fussed over.

"Fine," he replies, his gaze falling on the items she has lied on her side of the tent to dry. Hands in the pockets of his pajama pants (his only unfrozen pair of pants), he eyes them, not saying a word. Bella is tempted to ask if he's cold, warm, or disorientated, but that worry becomes trivial when she carefully observes his cringe as he keeps reaching for the same spot behind his right shoulder.

"Take your shirt off," she says, reaching for the first aid kit. "Lie on your stomach."

"I'm fine," he repeats, scoffing, but when Bella raises eyebrows without saying anything, he complies. Grimacing, he reveals an abrasion the size of both her palms (fingers spread out), oozing blood and looking thoroughly disgusting. It's incredible she missed it before.

"It's just a graze," he says, wincing at her gentle touch. She doesn't gloat, in fact, she says nothing at all until she's covered the area with (cold) hydrogen peroxide and spread (equally cold) antibiotic ointment on the wound.

"So what's the verdict, Doc?" he asks. "Will I live?"

His naked broad shoulders, although wounded, are enough to distract her, and when she looks in his face, one eye opened and face pressed against the coat they used as a pillow, she wishes the rough man in front of her would treat her worry with more than ridicule. He's capable of gentle, she knows, but only when he's not the one being fussed over.

"I'm not a doctor."

"Same thing." He sits and puts on the clean albeit damp T-shirt Bella hands him.

"Hardly."

Quietly, he starts sorting out his things. He's crouching, rubbing his beard and scoffing as he finds his wet flashlight and unresponsive smart phone. His silence doesn't bother her most days, but today is not most days. She's overwhelmed with worry, or love, or maybe they're the same. It doesn't matter. She wants him to be overwhelmed with gratitude, to seek her company, she wants to tell him he's remarkable and worth it and she would follow him anywhere. He would then proceed to declare his undying love for her so that they could live happily ever after.

In her head, this has happened.

More than once.

"From a scale of a pin drop to a nuclear war, how mute are you today?"

Edward grins. It's dopey and boy-ish and she revels in it. It will become to encourage a thousand and one delusions.

"Point taken," he replies, turning away. He watches the stuff he's organized into piles before asking, "When did you bring these back?"

"He speaks!"

Edward huffs a silent chuckle and patiently waits until she answers his question.

"This morning," she replies. "You were asleep."

Edward hesitates, and then clears his throat. "Do you know how dangerous that was?"

"Like you didn't want to kill yourself by not letting me help you."

"You could've fallen in after me."

"So what was I supposed to do?" she asks, voice rising. "Leave you there to freeze to death?"

"If that meant saving yourself?" he asks, calm and quiet when he replies, "Yes."

"What's _wrong_ with you lately? Why would you throw that bag out of water instead of letting it sink, anyway? It's just stuff. It's replaceable. You are not. But you throw it out and risk getting stuck under the ice? That's a level of stupidity hard to reach."

"All of our medicine is in that bag."

"Oh, yeah? Choosing between saving you or a hiking bag, oh, gee, let me think about that." She starts to tie her hair in a fishtail. He sits cross-legged on their sleeping bags; she sits in front of him. Looking at his feet, she quietly asks, "Are you on anti-depressants?"

He lets out a sharp breath. "No."

"Please don't lie to me. Nine AM and nine PM, like clockwork. What are you taking?"

This time, he reddens, and if she didn't reach for her hair binder, she'd have missed it.

"What?"

"Minocin," he replies quietly. "Minocycline."

She snaps the metal part of hair binder against her fingers and cringes. "I'm sorry."

"S'okay."

"I thought it's cleared out on its own."

"No, I—" Embarrassed, Edward rubs his neck and doesn't elaborate. She grins, and he smiles, half-shrugging. "Where is your 'I told you so'?" he asks.

"You just wait."

As they watch the shadows of spruce branches dance on their tent, Bella observes him. His voice is rough, maybe from a mild cold, but it's the distance in his eyes she's worried about.

"Something's changed," she says quietly, shifting closer until the tips of her knees brush his. She reaches out to cup his cheek, just an easy-going, assuring caress, but he covers her hand with his, wraps his fingers around it and removes her hand. Undeterred, she hooks his pinky finger with hers and swings their hands back and forth. Her eyes don't leave his face, and in earnest, she asks, "What's wrong?"

Edward blinks, once, twice, casts a glance at her pinky finger hooked to his, and closes his eyes. He stays like that for half a minute before he opens his eyes and shrugs. "Nothing."

"What is it with all this rash behavior?" She squeezes his pinky finger. "I've never seen you like this."

"I would never do anything that would put you in danger, you know that."

"What about risking _your_ life? What about that?"

Edward lets her hand drop. "I'll make breakfast," he says, throws his boots on and leaves the tent. She watches him as he returns, holding a pot of clear, white snow, but when he reaches for Esbit cubes, she wraps her fingers around his wrist. "Edward," she mutters. "What are you doing?"

"Breakfast," he replies. "Blueberry or apple cinnamon?"


	3. Back on the Road

: :

"We could stay here for a day," she suggests after they've cleaned their plastic bowls. "You need to rest."

Edward stuffs his sleeping bag back in its bag as he looks up, eyebrows raised.

"Or I could talk to myself like a normal person."

As if deciding whether to speak or not, he stares at his hands, a small smile on his lips. "We're too close to home," he says finally.

Putting a hand on his forearm, she throws caution to the wind and risks his annoyance. "Are you sure? You were pretty out of it last night."

"I'm sure," he replies, making eye contact just for a second. She doesn't push. He changes into his semi-damp clothes and packs his clothes and hygiene items, all in various states of frozenness, back into his backpack. They curl up their mats and observe the empty floor of their tent.

She picks up a small black box. "You forgot this," she says, voice so cheery it's unnatural. Edward avoids her eyes as he takes it.

Together they roll up their tent. He rebuffs her arguments about carrying it, ties it to his bag and throws the thirty three pounds on his back (not without grimacing as the weight rubs against the scrapes on his back). She does the same with her twenty six. The sky is cloudy and the weather nearly windless.

A snowdrift separates them from their intended path, and they assess its height; neither has snow shoes.

"We could lighten your bag a bit," Edward says, clearly not admitting to the pain his own backpack is causing him. It's written on his face.

"Oh, the big powerful manly man wants to carry all my stuff, what shall I do? Surely he doesn't want me to play the damsel in distress and pretend I can't carry my bag anymore."

"Fine," he says. "I'll never help you with anything. Ever again."

"That's the spirit."

He trudges ahead of her, making the path wider than necessary, and she easily keeps up with him, hopping from footprint to footprint. On the other side of the snowdrift, he turns around, completely covered by snow. She laughs.

"It is hard, the life of a knight in shining armor, isn't it?"

She can see the grin in his eyes as she helps him brush it off. The strip not covered by snow on the lake shore is just wide enough for them to comfortably walk in a single file. It's silent, and yesterday's storm would be forgotten if it weren't for the smooth piece of ice in the place Edward fell through. They glance at it, but neither comments.

"So, I didn't know you were dating anyone," Bella says, trying to seem offhand.

"Dating? I'm getting married."

Eyes wide, she turns around. A puff of vapor leaves her scarf. "You _what_?"

She's sure she should be checked for heart arrhythmia.

His eyes, however, dance in amusement when he squeezes her shoulder and turns her to face the track. "Keep going. I know you don't like being on the road in the dark."

"But—when did it happen? Who is she?" She sounds strange and strangled even in her own ears. "You never told me."

"My dog. I would imagine she's the only girl I'm able to marry once I move back here."

She halts to a stop and turns around. "You're _moving_ here?"

"Bella," he says, again, putting a hand on her shoulder to turn her around. "We have at least eleven miles to go and three hours to do it. Perhaps you could walk and talk simultaneously? You can multitask."

"Brownie points for me," she replies, turns around and continues to walk. Quietly, she asks, "If you're not getting married, why do you have a ring?"

He hums.

"Edward?"

"I'll tell you later," he says, gazing at the mountains behind the lake. She turns around and walks backwards, waiting until he turns to look ahead.

In a voice that sounds more vulnerable and tiny than she intends, she asks, "Are you getting bored of me?"

He frowns. "Where did you get that idea?"

"You've been so distant these few weeks and we don't, you know, talk anymore. I used to be able to talk to you about anything in the world, and now you shut me out if I say the wrong thing and it's kind of scaring me. I always knew you kept to yourself a lot but now you're keeping yourself from _me_ and I feel like you regret taking me here."

"Do you regret coming here?"

"Of course not." She scoffs. In just three words, she manages to sound enthusiastic and girly and a bit shy. "I never thought I'd see a caribou or a snowy owl in their natural environment. Everything is so magnified. It's breathtaking."

Edward watches her, her eyes bright with enthusiasm, and she wants to kiss him like nobody's ever kissed him before. It's overwhelming.

"I'm glad," he replies, a shy sort of smile in his eyes. "Because I've grown quite attached to having you here."

He's neither sentimental nor a fan of talking, and she's learned to cherish the moments he says things like that. She grins, opens her arms wide and lets herself fall in a snowdrift. "Isn't this beautiful?"

He offers both hands for her to take. She observes his mitten-clad hands, idle until a howl echoes in the valley. She gets up, stands so close to Edward her foot presses against his shoes, and feels her heart drop to the bottom of hers. Figuratively.

"What was that?"

"That, I think, was a wolf."

She raises her eyes, wide and terrified.

"It's alright," he assures. "They're far."

"You don't understand." She's clenching her hands around his shoulder strap. "I am terrified of dogs. Wolves? I will shit my pants if we see one."

"I'd like to see that," he says, amused. She scoffs and starts walking next to him, but as another howl echoes, she takes hold of his hand.

"We're going to die."


	4. Constellations

: :

"Is now the time for me to be the big powerful manly man who protects the damsel in distress?"

"Yes," she whispers. He watches her face, or the little patch of skin surrounding her eyes that he can see, and puts both arms on her shoulders. She looks up.

"Are you really that scared?"

Bella nods, and the moment he lets go of her shoulders, she seeks out his hand and holds it in hers. They continue to walk, hand in hand, and she squeezes his knuckles each time they hear a howl. After an hour and a half of walking, the sun peeks out from behind the clouds before disappearing behind a mountain, and as it does, howling comes from their side of the valley. She freezes.

"Hey, now." Edward runs his hand along her arm. "This is not some Discovery Channel hungry wild animal special. They have no interest in us."

"How do you know?"

"I lived here until I was eighteen, remember? I've seen and heard them. If they're not wounded or starving, they will avoid us."

She's so close the vapor of her breath fogs the buttons on his coat. "What if they're wounded and starving?"

"This year? Highly unlikely."

"What if we're the unlikely case and they eat us?"

"Then we die," he says, straight-faced, but when she pales, he takes her hand. "Hey, hey, lighten up. Don't get so carried away. It'll be fairly light for at least an hour, and either way, they're not interested in us. Alright?"

Bella nods but walks closer than necessary. She revels in his proximity, but she's unsure how he feels about holding her hand. He's a tough guy to understand.

Her fear grows the darker the sky becomes, but when stars become visible, Edward points at a sideways W-shaped constellation.

"That's Cassiopeia," he says. "She was a queen in Greek mythology who boasted about being more beautiful than the Nymphs. Poseidon had a wife who was a Nymph and condemned Cassiopeia to circle the celestial pole forever. She spends half of her time upside down as punishment for her vanity."

She's tempted to burst the balloon of snark that appears the moment he decided to initiate conversation, but stranger things have happened. And she likes listening to him. He spoke softly.

"Poseidon was God of—what?"

"The Sea."

"Right," she says. "Is she upside down now?"

"No," he replies. "But other cultures see a hand or moose antlers. The Arabs, I think, see a camel." He squeezes her hand to encourage her to walk faster. "See the star that's one thirds on the way to the North Star? That's the end of Dragon's tail, so if you start to go left and around the Little Bear, you'll reach—"

"Wait, wait," she interrupts. "Which one is the North Star?"

He stops, leans down, and when he presses his head against hers, she turns to face him slightly to see his eyes. He holds out his arm. "The bright one up there," he says. She's breathless from his proximity, but then he tugs her to continue walking and she finds herself observing him in the starlight, eyes bright and alive; completely unaware of how charming his knowledge makes him.

"How do you know?"

"See the quadrangle over there? That's part of the Great Bear, so if you take those two bright stars and count about five lengths of them upwards, that's North Star."

"How is that part of the Great Bear?"

"It's not," he replies. "See those three bright stars? They're the tail, and down there, that's its back leg. But North Star is part of the Little Bear, which is a bit fainter."

"So the Great Bear has its tail up and is looking down?"

"You can say that."

"Did all cultures consider that pattern of stars a bear?"

"Not all, but lots of them. Native Americans and the Greeks did."

"Individually?"

"I believe so."

"How?"

"I would imagine you'd have to be aware of the animal you draw the comparison to. Native Americans, for example, couldn't have had a kangaroo up there for the simple reason that they'd never encountered one. But if I remember correctly, their bear's tail is replaced by three hunters with the middle one carrying a cooking pot to cook up the bear."

"So where's the Dragon?"

"Go one third up from those two bright stars, left around the Little Bear and down to that quadrangle. That's the head. According to the legend, the Dragon was killed by a goddess named Minerva, and as she threw it on the sky it became twisted and froze at the North Celestial Pole. But instead of a Dragon, the Arabs see Mother Camels protecting their baby from hyenas."

"The Arabs seem to find lots of camels in the sky."

"I would, too, if I lived around camels," he replies. "But not that many, actually. There's only Camelopardalis left, and then that's enough camels for them, I think."

"Where is Camelo—what you just said?"

"It's not dark enough for it, but it's between Cassiopeia, Little Bear and Great Bear. It's a bit Y-shaped but the stars are too faint to see them yet."

Soft snow whirrs by their feet as they stroll, Edward's eyes are up in the sky but hers on his face. Like the front of his woolen scarf, his beard, eyelashes and eyebrows are covered by frost, and she can feel her own frosty eyelashes when she blinks. The cold, the starry sky, silence occasionally filled by a distant howl, holding hands with him, it all feels incredible to her.

"I like this," she says, shrugging when he stares at her for a second too long, but then he smiles. It's so tender it feels like he forgot to filter himself, so she blinks, because it's like she's looking at a different person. His expression changes, but not the look in his eyes.

"How do you know so much about stars?"

"You mean how could I be such an academic fail when I look like such a nerd?"

"No. Seriously, how do you know so much? It's incredible."

His frown fades as he understands she's not mocking him. "My gran," he replies. "She used to work as a history teacher but her real passion was mythology. She knows lots of Native American myths no-one's ever bothered to write down. Aleut and Tlinkit, particularly. So I guess I grew up with it."

"I wish I grew up like that," she replies, walking closer to him when she hears a howl. "Where is she now?"

"Somewhere in the woods. She told me she'd try to be here, so she might be waiting for us at home."

"Is she dog sledding?"

He hums in agreement.

"Isn't she scared to travel alone in the woods?"

"I doubt," he replies. "But if she's home, you can ask her."

Bella walks a bit quicker to face him, twirls around and smiles. "Do you even know how incredible your upbringing has been? Some people would die to have their children grow up the way you have."

"I think die is an exaggeration," he replies when she takes back his hand. "If it was that important, they'd move to the countryside. But I don't think Alaska's population even surpasses a million."

"Is has increased over the years, though, hasn't it?"

"Someone read a handbook," he replies, nudging her.

She shrugs. "I wanted to be prepared."

"And were you?"

"Should've read Bear Grylls' biography instead."


	5. Alice, Where's Gran?

: :

The path Edward chooses wanders into the woods, and Bella sticks to Edward like gum to hair as the terrain becomes hillier and bares a few cliffs. Soil is mostly bare and frozen under the Sitka spruce forest, and darkness chills her. Her shoulders are aching from the weight on her back, and she lets go of his hand to stretch.

"Want to rest?"

"Here?" she asks, barely able to make out their path. "Hell no."

"Want to throw some of your stuff in my bag?"

"And make your graze more pleasant than it already feels? Obviously."

"We're nearly there," he says. "But if you want, I can carry your bag for a while. It won't be a problem."

"Shut up and lead me to the castle, Mr. Tarzan."

"Yes, ma'am."

Edward guides them along a path that ascends and curves slowly to the left, surrounding the base of a mountain. She smacks right into his bag at a sharp corner. "Edward, what're you—"

At a distance, a wooden house and two smaller shed-looking buildings are nearly swallowed by a snowdrift. She grins, heaves her bag in the snow and throws her arms around Edward's neck. He lifts her off the ground.

"We made it! We made it and we didn't die!" she cheers, hiding her face in his scarf. She slides on the ground, pulls down his scarf and smacks a kiss on his cold, beard-covered cheek. "You're my hero."

He grins. She grabs her bag and start running across the snowy yard, dopey smile on her face. Hip-deep in snow, she slows down at least ten feet from the porch when her heart drops. Frozen in her place, she gulps.

"Does the damsel in distress need a road made in the snow? It's only—" He stops when he sees her eyes. "What's wrong?"

Having caught up with her, he hears the same low growl she heard. A figure moves on the porch; its eyes are glowing. In a flash, Edward's pocket knife is out.

"Slowly back away," he whispers, stepping in front of her. The animal growls louder when he drops his bag in the snow.

"Edward," she squeaks.

"Shh," he says, starting to step closer. "Can you take out your flash light?"

"Let's go back," she whispers.

"It's alone," he replies, taking small steps closer to the porch. "Flash light?"

The animal growls, low and threatening, but when it steps into Edward's view, he lowers his knife.

"Edward? What're you doing?"

He folds his knife, and as light reflects from the animal's fur, Edward lets out a relieved laugh and kneels to hug the dog. She whines but starts to waggle her tail. "Come here, Bella." Edward grins. "I want to introduce you to Alice."

"I can't," she replies, pressing her palm against her chest. "I think I shat my pants."

Edward laughs, rubbing and caressing the grey fur of a restless Alaskan husky. Slowly, Bella drags Edward's backpack closer to the house and stops several feet away from them. The dog is panting heavily, lying next to the wall only to sit up again.

"She won't hurt you," Edward assures. "I promise."

"That's what they all say," she replies. "Next thing I know, my head is in a drain in New York and cockroaches eating my limbs in Toronto."

"Can you show me the flash light for a moment?" Edward asks, and when she does, he stands. "She's going into labor."

"How do you know?"

"See that green-ish yellow snow? Definitely going into labor. Can you get the key? Just reach for the pocket under the third step. Let's get her inside."

She does as he says and carries their bags inside while Edward finds old rags for Alice to lie on. Still convinced that once she's alone with the dog, she'll bite her head off, Bella finds use for herself boiling water on the porch to make tea. She stands on the doorway, catching glimpse of Edward who's setting a bowl of water in front of Alice. She walks to the edge of the porch when Edward leaves Alice to join her.

"How are your pants?" he asks.

"Crappy."

His eyes are alight with humor. "Punny."


	6. Kajika

: :

"Let's get you inside."

"I'd rather sleep on the porch."

"She won't hurt you," he repeats, taking off his mittens and turning her to face him. Warily, she observes the mini-hallway (where Edward has lit a candle) and the dog whining in the corner.

"Help me through it." She takes off her own mittens, unwraps the scarf that saved Edward's life and intertwines her fingers with his. A smile tugs at his lips.

"If she bites me, I'll bite you."

"Deal," he says, guiding her closer to the dog. He crouches, rests elbows on his knees, and rubs Alice's neck. She licks his fingers and whines. She's silver-colored, with a white neck and nose, and her fur is impressive.

Squeezing all blood out of Edward's fingers, Bella leans closer to the dog, but the moment she detects a growl she lets go and steps back.

"It's okay," Edward assures as he stands. "She won't hurt you."

"She growled," she argues.

"She's just curious," Edward replies, smiling when he holds out a hand for her. She can't not take it. Edward crouches, motioning for her to do the same, and takes her right hand in both of his. He moves her hand closer to the dog, who, just like she fears, starts to growl. She squeezes her eyes shut as she feels the dog sniff her palm. She hopes Alice smells Edward's scent more than hers, and when Edward guides Bella's hand to caress her fur, the dog whines. Bella opens an eye.

"Am I still alive?"

Edward tries hard not to laugh. Still holding his hand, Bella caresses Alice's fur from head to tail, and lets out a surprised laugh when Alice licks her fingers.

"She likes you," Edward says, looking embarrassed as he lets go of her hand. He stands. "Huskies are probably the friendliest dogs you'll ever meet. They're friendly to the point where they seem to lack any loyalty."

In spite of her fear, Bella finds herself wanting to do something for the dog who's panting, whining and so helpless-looking.

"Can we help her?"

"I'll keep an eye on her and the pups through the night," Edward says, putting on his mittens. "She'll be okay."

"Where are you going?"

"To bring firewood."

"Need any help?"

Shaking his head, he places five candles in her palm and steps out of the house. Chuckling—because it is so like Edward to do something without an explanation—Bella carefully backs away from the dog in case Alice decides to change her mind about her, but the dog doesn't even growl when Bella drags their bags to the living room.

Looking for a tissue, she finds a rumpled piece of paper written by Edward's doctor that makes her feel equally jealous and amused. But maybe more amused.

She lights and sets candles on different surfaces of the living room, but only keeps a flashlight with her.

The living room is surprisingly large with a warm-looking carpet and a couch. The wooden walls are covered by fur, books and coal-drawings; most horizontal surfaces are covered by (and made of) wooden carvings. Nails, wires and pieces of wood lie on a table in the corner. She counts three old radios. She finds the kitchen; the pantry is stocked with alcohol, jars filled with cranberries, lingonberry jam and honey, salt, dried apples, oatmeal and flour. There's nothing that expires quickly.

She explores his house with her flashlight, and maybe it's the darkness, but every carved surface screams history. Furniture is old, way old, made by Edward's gran and great-grandfather, and those newer must've been made by Edward. Bella finds three axe-looking weapons, embellished with eagle feathers and medicine bundles. One of them has a head made of sharp stone.

Feeling like she's in a museum, she picks up a tomahawk with a thin iron blade, weighing it, and tries to imagine a little boy whose fun-filled days consisted of learning to hunt with a weapon most people consider a museum artifact, a boy whose gran taught him to be one with nature, to never disturb it, to appreciate and give thanks to every animal he killed. A boy whose first encounter with a television happened when he was sixteen. Bella had heard about his upbringing, of course, but she'd never had the insight to fully acknowledge how untainted his life experience was. 130 miles from their nearest neighbor and nearest road, homeschooled until the end of high school, spending days, weeks and years with his great-grandfather and granny, growing and hunting the food they ate. In a way, it was like a tale straight out of _Crocodile Bird_, except the reasoning behind his upbringing was simple and straightforward.

"My great-grandfather's best friend was from one of the Iroquoian tribes," Edward says from the living room, throwing firewood in front of the fireplace before he walks up to Bella and crouches. "Seneca. He taught my great-grandfather how to make them, and I learned from him."

He takes the tomahawk from her, runs his hand along its spine, smiling, and twists and throws it before it lands perfectly in his palm. Bella blinks at him, incredulous that she'd never thought to ask him.

"You have an Indian name, too, don't you?"

He takes the second tomahawk, weights both of them in his hands, and motions at the living room wall with their blades. The moment she points her flashlight at the wall, he throws both tomahawks across the room. The first one cuts off the string of a picture frame, the second one hits the falling picture square in the middle.

"Eagle Eye," he says, and his smile is apologetic as he goes to pull his tomahawks from the wall. "Gran hated that frame." He puts the broken picture frame in the fireplace. "But don't tell her I used tomahawks inside."

More than two cracks disrupt the orderly pattern of wood, so Bella guesses that that particular wall has found the same fate in the past.

"Please remind me to never piss you off," Bella says, leaning closer to the wall to observe the wooden wall. "Also, judging by these old cracks, I think I might be too late."

Embarrassed, Edward puts away his weapons, pulls old newspapers out of a shelf and crouches next to the fireplace.

"Has Alice given birth yet?"

"Any minute now," he replies. "We can go make sure the first pups get out of their sacs after we've eaten, if you'd like."

"I would."

"What happened to being terrified of dogs?"

"Puppies are harmless," she replies, looking at him. "It's when dogs weigh more than cows and sound like Vin Diesel when they scare me."

Edward laughs.

For fifteen minutes, they silently work on making the best nest for rumpled paper, cones and cold, damp firewood.

"When I was little, my gran called me Kajika," Edward mutters. "Still does, sometimes."

"What does that mean?"

Edward smiles, cryptic yet amused. "Walks without Sound."

She rolls her eyes. "Of course it does."

He holds a candle under rumpled paper that lights on fire before shrinking and blackening. Edward piles cones on top of it.

"I bet you could do this fire by rubbing two sticks together, huh."

"I could," he replies, thoughtful. "But that would take time, and you look cold. I'd rather you were warm."

He rumples more newspapers under the cones, lights them on fire and blows on the pile, but Bella's eyes linger on his face. It wasn't the dismissive way he said it, it was the undeniable care behind his words that warmed her.

"If I had an Indian name, what would it be?"

Edward stays silent, blowing on the cones until they're completely lit, and eyes her. He's clearly amused.

"What?"

"Machakw."

"Sounds fierce," she replies. "What does it mean?"

"Horny Toad."

Laughing, Bella nudges him.

She starts laying out the still semi-frozen contents of Edward's bag, and he pulls dry mittens on before bringing bed sheets from a room she hasn't been in yet. Fire lights up the room when he starts helping her.

"Please tell me there's something other than oatmeal for us to make tomorrow."

"Not a fan?"

"Never again," she replies. "Please, please tell me you have a secret stash of rice or potatoes. Buckwheat, beans, carrots, dead rats. Anything."

"Dead rats? I can kill some."

She throws a pillow at him before they lie bed sheets and blankets on a wire he set up in front of the fireplace. It's five degrees, equally cold inside as it is outside, so they lie a woolen blanket in front of the fireplace and sit on it. She finds their last hot-cans, presses the buttons on their bottoms (mixing water with quicklime); the reaction heats the content in less than three minutes. He'd never heard of it before, but it was quick and easy. And hot.

"If Alice was with your gran… where's your gran?"

Frowning, he blows on his spoon because the soup is nearly scalding his mouth. Finally, he says quietly, "I whistled earlier. She's definitely not within hearing distance or she'd whistle back."

"Should we go look for her?"

He stares into the fire for five seconds. "Not tonight," he says. "But tomorrow, we should head east. She might be stuck behind the Horseshoe Mountain on the Windward Slope."

"Stuck? What do you mean, stuck?"

"Maybe you'll see," he replies. "But hopefully not."

He tilts his head on the side, and the fire reflects in his eyes. He frowns and wets his lips in a way that makes her want to breathe his breath and crawl into his sweatshirt while he's in it and wrap herself around him and never let go. Yet, except for last night, they can't even hug without awkwardness, which is six ways twisted and a lot messed up.

"What?" he asks, blinking at her like he doesn't have a clue. He eyes her, intense yet quiet in a way only a taciturn man like him could be, and his frown deepens. But she can't tell him.

So she watches him watching her, like a friend would and should, the upside down Nike-shaped scar in his eyebrow and the fierce gaze so at odds with the physical presence of him. She turns away her eyes and mimics his posture, a good foot or two away from him. She sighs, but soon, she remembers his doctor's note, and an amused smile spreads over her face.

Maybe it's time to reduce the awkwardness between them by blowing things up a bit.

"It's only a side effect, your skin, isn't it," she says and raises her eyes to look at Edward. He's staring at her, mortified. "_Chlamydia trachomatis_ is no comfortable bacteria to have, I bet." She grins. "So am I allowed to ask how you got it?"


	7. Day 8: In Front of the Fireplace

: :

He runs a hand over his face, silent and embarrassed. "Sometimes you have the tact of an avalanche, you know?"

"I know." She leans closer and her smile fades. "I'm sorry. My grandpa—"

"I know, I know," he interrupts, adding a sheepish smile. "I understand, I guess. In a way. That you'd bring it up, I mean, not that you'd laugh at me about it."

She covers her face with her fingers when she sees the hurt she's caused. "I'm an asshole, aren't I? I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I was just trying to lighten you up to erase this, I dunno, awful awkwardness between us. And it's also, you know, occupational hazard. I didn't mean to hurt you."

He looks in her eyes, blinking in that calm, Edward-y manner, until Bella hides her face in both hands. "I'm an asshole," she repeats. "You should've let the wolves have me."

Edward continues to stare at her for an alarmingly long time until he nods. The edges of his lips tug into a smile. "They wouldn't have had you," he replies. "Too little meat."

He's hit with a pillow, and as both laugh, the tension fades.

"I don't really want to know the answer," Bella says, quietly, as they look at each other. "As long as you start acting normal around me, alright?"

He stands and offers a hand for Bella to take. "Fair enough." They check on Alice, who's licking a puppy with closed eyes, a big pink nose and a tiny body. The puppy is wailing a high-pitched sound before crawling under Alice's stomach. Bella crouches to see the furball clearer, but as Alice licks and nudges her little pup, she pulls her wet tongue over Bella's face, too. Bella withdraws, grimacing and eyes closed, and Edward throws back his head in laughter.

"It's not funny," she mutters, unable to open her mouth properly because of Alice's saliva. Edward can't stop laughing when he offers her a hand towel and guides her to the living room because she's keeping her eyes shut.

"Aren't we going to help her deliver?" she asks, sitting down and rubbing her face.

"She might deliver them until the morning, and you need your energy tomorrow," he replies. "I'll keep an eye on her."

It's a cozy, quiet night, but the living room is still too cold to discard hats and mittens. Bella rests her head against the back of the couch, legs under a blanket, and Edward throws wood in the fire before sitting on the other side of the couch, legs crossed. He's wearing a warm-looking green sweater with a collar that compliments his eyes in the cutest way.

"Do your parents know you're here?"

"If dad's bothered to speak to his secretary," Bella replies. "In all likelihood, he's been told but he didn't notice. Or care."

Edward observes her as she fiddles with the edge of her blanket. "You don't speak about them often."

"I don't," she says, with no initial intention of elaborating, but then her eyes fall on Edward. He looks like he genuinely cares, and that's always been a sweet spot for her. "What do you want to know?"

"All you've told me is that your dad's a senator," he replies.

"That's because that's about all I know," she replies, half-joking. "I think we've reached a sort of mutual agreement. I rarely let them know what I'm doing so that they wouldn't have to pretend to care too often. It's win-win."

"And your grandfather?"

"Beyond excited that I'm in Alaska to visit you. He'd love you. In fact, he already might."

"He hasn't even met me," Edward replies, slightly amused.

"And thank god, he'd replace me in your eyes and I'd be left with nobody."

"I'm afraid you can't be replaced," Edward says, slightly shy as he avoids eye contact. "That's the problem."

"That's nice of you to say, but my experience proves you wrong." Bella gives him a pursed lips smile. "You know, when I was fifteen, I think, and I'd seen dad in two elections, one when I was nine and the other when I was thirteen, I was positive that my issues with my parents had everything to do with their views, so I paid a few guys in my classes to sleep on my couch and pretend to have slept with me. I then proceeded to pretend to be pregnant just to see if my parents were just as anti-abortion they claimed to be, and you know what? When it came down to it, they both insisted they'd pay for abortion. Which, of course, I didn't have because it's quite impossible to get pregnant by having paid a guy to sleep on your couch."

"Was that before or after you pretended to be gay?"

"Before. Definitely. And I guess I had problems with the way they felt they must interfere with other's people's lives so that other people would only be allowed to live the way they approved of, but I had more problems with the way they just… didn't care, you know? I've never spent a single day with them as a family."

Edward looks at her in silence. "Why didn't they show up to your graduation? They must be proud of you."

"Don't be silly, Edward," Bella scolds. "They hated that grandpa helped me pay through college. I should've been a doting wife to some stuck-up millionaire when I turned eighteen. That's how I convinced them to move to Michigan for high school, actually. I promised a scandal about the way they'd been auctioning me off to their rich friends when I was underage. I even recorded conversations. My grandfather, the kind man that he is, took me in even when he thought I was an ungrateful, rebellious twat. So I moved from Little Rock to Gladstone. To both of our surprise, though, it turned out I wasn't all that rebellious when I had a person who treated me like a human being. All it took was for someone to care."

"I'm sorry I didn't make it to your graduation," Edward says, crossing legs underneath him and resting elbows on his knees.

"You were there when I got my Bachelor's," she answers with a small smile. "And grandpa was there when I got my Master's."

"The guy who taught you to create uncomfortable situations?"

"He was just trying to avoid letting me turn into my parents."

"He succeeded."

"He did, apparently," she replies. "Turned me into an asshole instead."

Edward laughs.

"You know, to think of it, I've always been surrounded by quiet people. My parents never spoke about the problems they had, and every issue that arose meant days and weeks filled with silence. Uncomfortable silence. I could tell you a thousand and one stories about living with them, but I'd rather not. So, from early on, grandpa taught me to always address the elephant in the room because the elephant always—"

"—grows bigger over time. I remember that."

Bella smiles. "Yeah. But then, grandpa himself is quite silent. Not distant, just quiet. But he isn't hiding problems with his silence, that's just the way he is. Like you. Unless, of course, you _are_ hiding something that makes you uncomfortable, in which case I feel like I'm back at my parent's. And that's a tension I don't want to recreate, especially with you."

She smiles apologetically, and he nods, accepting her apology.

"I never thanked you," he says.

"For being an asshole? You're welcome."

"That, too," he replies. "But mostly for saving my life."

"I would've let you drown, but then I figured, out of the two of us, you're the only one who knows how to get out of this god-forsaken place."

He returns her smile. "I don't mean just yesterday."

"So I'm your damsel in shining armor. Get used to it."

"I just might," he replies quietly, watching Bella as she adds firewood to the fireplace before returning to the couch and yawning. She rests her head on the armrest, watching the fire in the distance as she removes her mittens. In the silence that follows, both in deep thought, Bella falls asleep. Edward checks on Alice, who's given birth to two more puppies, rearranges the firewood and places warm blankets on Bella. He sits cross-legged beside the couch, daring to run his fingers through her hair. She smiles in her sleep, so he stops, lies on the carpet and pulls a flimsy blanket on him.

He lies awake for a long time, listening to puppies wail and tucking Bella in when her blankets fall on the carpet. Finally, after adding a stump in the fireplace that should warm the house until morning, he falls asleep.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks a lot for reading my little story! :) See you soon.


	8. Looking for Gran

: :

It's smooth and rhythmic, the sound of a knife sliding over a piece of wood, and the scent reminds Bella of her grandfather. She's tucked in so properly she must work to get out her legs, and when Bella stretches, she finds herself looking at Edward, half-naked and wet.

She rubs her eyes. "Good morning."

Edward looks up, smiles, and continues like he carves wood wet and half-naked every day. After a minute, he sits next to Bella, resting elbows on his knees and eyeing her in silence.

"Is this where I ask you why you're wet?"

Edward's lips tug into a smile, but he rubs his neck and sighs. "I'd like you to have a look at my back," he says, sounding and expressing reluctance with his posture. "Please."

"If I got a dollar for every time you ask for my help I'd have exactly… one dollar."

Bella sits, unties her hair from its messy fishtail and wraps it in a bun. Legs beneath her, she observes his abrasion. It's oozing liquid, its edges are white, and there's no doubt in Bella's mind its surface area makes it more painful than he lets on.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Some," he replies, shying away from her touch. "On my stomach."

"Can I go pee first?"

"Of course."

It's nine AM, murky and quiet, and as Bella doesn't know the location of his outdoor toilet, she crouches behind three spruces. Shuddering on her way back to the living room, she finds five little huskies wailing away in the hallway. She hangs her coat, takes their medicine bag and sits on the back of the couch behind Edward, who's carving a piece of wood again.

Bandaging his back is tricky, but neither says anything until she's done.

"I sat in a snowdrift," he says, humming and leaning back. "To numb the pain."

"Ah." She touches the edges of his bandages to make sure they stick. "I think it would heal quicker if you left it in the open air, so maybe I could take them off in the evening. What do you think?"

"Gotcha, Doc."

"Still not a doctor."

Smiling, Edward brings himself a clean T-shirt from another room, and Bella averts her eyes when he catches her staring.

"I made soup," he says. "I'll wash clothes tonight, so you can leave yours in a pile next to the door."

"Can I help you?"

"You don't trust me to wash your clothes?"

"No," she replies, smiling. "Not really."

"Okay," he says. "Everything's ready, so let me know if you've eaten. Dress warm."

"No, I'll come in a bikini."

Edward stifles a smile as he puts more clothes on. "I'll believe it when I see it."

Sitting on the floor and admiring the five little pups, Bella eats soup, daring to caress the puppy furthest from their mother. She dresses for the weather, washes her bowl with snow, and, unaware of Edward's location, puts two fingers in her mouth to whistle. He whistles back. It takes fifteen minutes for Bella to walk up the hilly base of the mountain, and when his footprints end, she's looking at a small plane with skis attached to its wheels and Edward's bottom sticking out from the cockpit.

"So this is the love of your life," she says, reading the C-ILY written in red ink on the side of the plane. "Cessna 185. I especially like the letters on the side."

Edward hits his head against the console before cursing and jumping off his plane.

"Shit," Bella says, sheepish. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"I'm fine," he says, rubbing the back of his head, grimacing and smiling simultaneously. "Are you ready?"

"For bush flying? Always," she replies, walking up to him to have a look at his head. "But I haven't found your luxury bathroom yet, so if you could show me, I'd be thrilled to pay a visit."

Edward shows her the outdoor toilet on the edge of the forest, and Bella just knows she will shit her pants rather than visit it in the middle of the night. Edward, meanwhile, feeds Alice (again), shuts the door between living room and hallway to keep the house warm, and brings water bottles, binoculars and snacks on the plane. Bella gets a headset to mute most of the engine noise. She's excited and daunted as they take off, but the ease with which Edward takes them higher impresses her.

"You're a much more confident pilot than Mike," she says, mirroring his grin as they gain altitude and witness a pair of moose disappearing in the forest.

"Give him some credit," he replies. "He's only had the license for a year."

"You never told me that!"

"I didn't," he says. "You would've been scared out of your mind knowing how his first lesson went."

"Don't tell me."

She admires spruce forests, mountains and lakes, wild animals and a greenish taiga in the distance. She can't see Edward's eyes because he's wearing sunglasses, but at one point, she's sure he's watching her.

"It was Mike's bachelor party," Edward says, drawing Bella's attention. "In Dillingham. It would be a funny story if it hadn't been such a colossal mistake. I was walking the line between drunk and wasted and she was… kind of reminded me of… you know, never mind. She was dressed in all leather and—I guess I was lonely. The entire situation was hilarious and sad and a bit fucked up. Mike walked in on us and knocked some sense into me, let me sleep myself sober on his couch and told me what I didn't remember about the previous night."

Bella purses her lips, watching him, feeling sorry for him. "I'd hug you if I wasn't afraid of crashing the plane."

"So we're good?" Edward asks quietly.

"We're good." Bella smiles. "Tell me, at which point and from where do we start looking for your gran?"

"There's about three or four paths she usually takes. We'll start from the one behind the Horseshoe Mountain and make a big circle around my place. She might've started from a different point or met someone, so don't freak out if she's not in the first place we look, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'll point out the paths she usually takes to you and you can start looking. With or without binoculars, your choice. Deal?"

Bella spends the next fifteen minutes looking for dogs and a sled and an elderly woman, but to no avail. Twice, they fly over a narrow but long chasm connected by a patch of land covered by snow. They're low.

"How deep is it? Could she have fallen in?"

"She could have, but I don't think she did. There are no traces."

"But how deep is it?"

"Ten feet at its deepest."

"What if she fell in before yesterday? The storm the night before yesterday could've erased the tracks."

Edward looks at Bella, long and hard, before giving a nod. "You want to go and look?"

"Yes, please."

He starts to land as Bella scans the area with binoculars, and just as they're about to hit snow, Bella says, "Wait! Don't land! I think I can see the dogs, on the right—look!"

She points to the north. The skis barely graze the snow as his plane takes off again. "I can see them."

"But where's gran?" Bella asks, voice tiny, desperately searching the area with the binoculars until she yells, "I found her!"

He nods. "I can see."

Bella squints, looking through the binoculars. "Why is she sitting on top of a tree, eating an apple?" Gasping, she slowly puts down the binoculars. "Is she flipping us off?!"

"She's fine." Starting to gain altitude, Edward laughs. "Let's go. She'll be home before nightfall."


	9. Bush Flying

: :

Gaining altitude, Edward turns the plane to head south over a valley with a semi-frozen river. In the distance to their right, there's a lush-looking taiga, and to their left what appears to be a bigger mountain range and a glacier. "Let's do some proper bush flying, what do you say?"

Bella can't stop her grin. "I'd love to."

"Do you regret not taking Mike's offer to bring us all the way?"

"No way. We prepared for an adventure and I got one," she replies. "No regrets."

Looking at the river under them, Edward smiles, descends, and points at two small, furry animals. "Hoary marmot, the largest North American ground squirrel. Makes a high-pitched whistling sound as a warning, but we can't hear it over the engine."

Bella watches with her binoculars as they disappear behind the rocky terrain. "Look like small, flat-headed beavers to me."

He laughs.

"So, what do you have planned now that you've graduated and you're done with your job at the pharmacy?"

Putting down the binoculars, Bella sighs. "I guess I should become a responsible adult and find myself an apartment. But… I don't know. I didn't apply for a PhD position because I just feel… overwhelmed, I think. I'll probably take a year or two to do something completely unrelated and then figure out if I want to do a PhD or keep working."

"How does Tyler feel about that?"

"Tyler?" she repeats, not having heard that name in a long time. "We broke up about a year ago. Tyler has no say in anything I do."

He looks at her, sharply, and even though the plane doesn't waver because he's too good of a pilot for that to happen, she can feel his eyes. She desperately wishes to see them because if his body language is anything to go by, he's caught by surprise.

"You didn't know? But I told you."

"When?" Edward asks, and he sounds strange. "When do you think you told me?"

"Wait, all this time, you thought I was with Tyler?"

"When?" he repeats. "When did you tell me?"

"It was the weekend after it, at the beginning of March. My car was broken and I convinced you to go to Pinball Pete's with me to cheer up, so we took a cab. It was the first thing I said to you. God, do I really vent so much you don't even register what I'm saying? Ouch."

"No." Edward says, glancing at the console before turning his face to her. "No, I do listen, I swear. I like your voice. It's just…"

"—that I have nothing to say that would interest you?" Hurt, she looks in her lap. "You could've told me sooner."

"No," he repeats, sighing. Letting out another long breath, he says, "I was wearing earphones."

"I'm sorry?"

"Earphones. I was wearing them until you—you put your head on my shoulder before I took them off. You were tired and silent for a long time before you told me you didn't know who you were anymore. We—we talked about how nobody ever tells you which choices to make in life and how to accept the decisions we have made. And how to find the things you're passionate about and the right person to go through life with."

Amazed that Edward would remember such details from a year ago, Bella stares at him, his bearded chin, the shades that cover the eyes she so wants to see this moment, and the broad shoulders under his woolen sweater and open jacket.

"I do listen to you," Edward continues, voice apologetic. "Remember how I wanted to switch Lansing Fire Department to East Lansing? I had some audio instructions I wanted to listen to, and I was probably listening to the end of it before you sat in the cab. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"So it's okay that I talk more than you do and make stupid comments?"

"Please do." He laughs as if in relief, and it's a little bit boyish. "You're a pretty remarkable girl. I like talking to you, so please don't be put off by my silence."

Bella smiles with her whole face, noticing how Edward, who'd been somewhat more awkward-looking during her visit, becomes the Edward she knew and loved back in Michigan. He laughs and touches her more easily, smiling at her like what she says matters. He doesn't become chattier, per se, but the tension is gone and he pays attention to her. It makes her all warm and fussy inside, and she doesn't even feel like a delusional teenager.

They decide to stop next to a glacier, one that's grayish and bluish more than it is white, and resembles a flipped over tray of ice-cubes, all jagged, rather than a picture on a post card. Edward turns off the engine, giving Bella their snacks and a water bottle, and together they sit on a rocky hill that overviews the glacier and the mountains on either side of it. The view is breath-taking, and Edward, who notices Bella shivering, pulls her to him without a word and shifts to wrap arms around her.

"Better?" he asks, voice low and close to her ear.

"Much."

And just like that, they're back to being the friends they were before Tyler happened to Bella, before this awkward phase during the time they spent apart. Hugging is no longer uncomfortable and Edward doesn't ignore her as easily. He's still rough around the edges, that doesn't change, but his edges are smoother where Bella is concerned.

And she likes that. She likes that a lot.

"See those dots on the left on the side of the mountain?" Edward asks, pointing at a distance. When Bella can't make out what he's showing, he brings binoculars and a blanket from the plane, and sits behind her, legs apart. He gives her binoculars and wraps them both in a blanket. His casualness is so at odds with how he's behaved so far, but she isn't complaining.

"Wolves," she whispers, offering him binoculars.

He refuses. "Six of them, I know."

Wanting to roll her eyes but smiling, she looks through binoculars again. A couple of wolves seem to be eating while the rest are sniffing, lying down or fighting for their share.

A bit nervous, Bella presses her back against Edward's chest. "Have you ever been scared of them?

He holds her tighter. "No. Not that I can recall."

She observes the six predators, one of whom drags a limb of some small mammal away from the others. All wolves manage to tear themselves a piece, but as they seem to prefer the shade of a spruce forest, Bella and Edward soon lose sight of them.

"You're a brave man," Bella says, putting down binoculars.

"I'm glad you think so," he replies, offering her an open bag of garlic bread. "But I'm no braver than you in the city. Wolves prefer to keep to themselves, and I can guarantee the amount of people who die in car crashes annually is exponentially bigger than the amount whose death is caused by a wolf, or any animal, for that matter. So, really, it would make more sense for you to be afraid of cars."

"But wolves are unpredictable creatures with their own free will. Cars are not."

"Which makes my point no less valid."

"Maybe," she replies. "Or maybe you should just accept the fact that I think it's incredibly brave of you to live here without fear."

"Maybe." Resting his chin on Bella's shoulder, Edward smiles, and they finish their bag of garlic bread in silence. Bella doesn't dare to move in case he'll go back to being awkward around her, but he keeps holding her even when she shifts and stretches. They watch the glacier and an occasional wild animal in the distance until cold gets to them.

Rubbing her arms to create warmth, Edward asks, "Some bush flying before facing gran?"

"Sounds like a deal."


	10. Hare-Style Bonding

: :

The sky has darkened by the time they make it back to the cabin. Edward lands so softly that if Bella closed her eyes and ears, she wouldn't have felt the difference. Neither moves when Edward turns off the engine, and they see a light in the cabin through the edge of the forest. Gran's home.

"I don't understand," Bella says, taking off her headset and realizing she's yelling. It feels odd, not having to talk over the sound of an engine.

"What?"

"How you didn't know," she replies in a normal voice. "About Tyler. Didn't you notice I never talked about him? You could've just asked me."

Shrugging, he starts gathering their stuff. "It wasn't something I wanted to discuss."

"Why not?"

Somewhat embarrassed-looking, he stops piling stuff on his lap and looks at her, softly. He tucks a strand of hair beneath her woolen hat. "Would you like to listen to the radio tonight?"

"Ooh, luxurious offers," she replies. "How can I refuse?"

Both throw a handful of items in bags before Edward guides them to a longer path in the forest. Bella grabs his hand when wolves wail in the distance, and twenty minutes later, they arrive on a small clearing on top of a hill with two self-made wind turbines, a broken solar panel and a wood gasifier. She shows him the flash light as he explains what he's doing—something to do with manually disconnecting some wires and unwinding the power cable—but a lot goes over her head, so she just enjoys his excitement.

Bella's steps halt momentarily when she counts seven huskies in front of the stairs leading to the cabin. She lets Edward pass so that she could walk in his footsteps. He turns around, stops, and she nearly walks into him.

"I thought you weren't that afraid anymore," he says.

"Alice is one dog," she says, motioning at the cabin. "These are seven, seven—bite machines."

"Tell you what. I'll give you a piggyback ride to the door if you agree to properly meet them in the daylight."

"But your back is hurt," Bella replies. "I can't do that to you."

He grimaces but leans toward her. "Put your arms around my neck."

"I'm sorry?"

Her tone would amuse him if she didn't look as genuinely frightened, so he takes her bag and swipes her off her feet. "Bridal style it is."

Smiling, Bella hides her face in his scarf. She squeezes his neck when dogs come to lick and jump on Edward; a few bark, but most are ecstatic to see him.

"See? Not every dog is your father's Rottweiler."

A small, funny-sounding whimper escapes her when he shuts the door and drops her in the hallway. She crushes him in a hug. "Thank you."

He smiles. "They would've only licked you senseless."

She unpacks their stuff in the living room, piles her dirty clothes next to Edward's, and hangs their damp mittens to dry in front of the fireplace. Having turned around, she's faced with a half-skinned hare that gran is holding. Gran herself is leaning against the doorway, observing them in silence. Her hair is long, straight and dark, with a couple of grey strands (and beads) mixed in, her body seems lithe and strong, and she has tan-lines around her eyes from wearing sunglasses. The only thing that truly reveals her age is the skin on her hands.

Gran puts a hand on her hip, waiting until Edward has thrown his clothes in a pile to start talking.

"What is this rescue mission business you're involved in lately? I am perfectly capable of surviving in the wilderness with a naked body and broken neck."

"Gran—"

"Who do you think raised you?! You have become soft after your two years in Michigan. Soft, I say! I will have none of that bush flying to see if I'm alive, am I understood? If I die dog-sledding, then that's the way I want to go. Death is a part of life, don't you forget that. You are not allowed to fuss over me!"

"We were worried," Edward replies, not the slightest bit intimidated by her speech.

Huffing, gran stares at her grandson for half a minute before marching to Bella and smacking a kiss straight on her lips. Wide-eyed, Bella makes a face at Edward, who's laughing silently behind gran's back.

"It's a wonder to finally meet you. I was beginning to think Edward made you up." Gran smiles, voice surprisingly soft. "I do hope you gave Edward a piece of his mind for fussing over me."

"Of course," Bella replies. "I yelled at him for an hour for daring to worry about you. How rude of him."

Gran eyes her, looking strict, but then the corner of her mouth rises. "Come, Bella. You're right on time."

"For what?"

"Skinning hares. I have three."

"Gran, she doesn't have to do anything she's not comfortable with."

Her expression doesn't change as she makes a spectacle of eyeing Bella. "Are you opposed?"

A bit wary of the unusual but blunt approach to bonding, Bella, unwavering under gran's gaze, figures she's seen Edward skin enough animals through their journey, so she should be fine.

She nods.

"Great!" Gran walks in the kitchen. Edward bows majestically (but really just teasing her… a little) as Bella passes, so naturally, she sticks out her tongue. He laughs.

Two snowshoe hares are lined up on the table while gran finishes skinning the third one. She doesn't seem to have used a knife, but Bella gets one as gran shows how to cut a ring around each leg, above the leg joint, not too deep. Under her supervision, Bella cuts two slices from the ring cut to the backside and starts pulling away the hide. It comes off easily. Meanwhile, gran watches her, teaching and observing the young woman.

"Do you feel faint?" gran asks, helping her cut through the bone of the tail not to puncture the bladder.

"I've seen Edward skin them before," Bella replies, looking slightly pale. "I'm fine."

Gran takes the last hare and pushes the knee joint out until hide separates from the meat. She doesn't use a knife, and Bella feels gran's eyes on her as she tries hard not to show disgust. It's fairly revolting, skinning a hare, and she feels a bit light-headed, but damn it if she doesn't show gran she's not as fragile as she looks.

"Tell me about yourself."

Pushing hair back with her wrist, Bella asks, "How much has Edward told you?"

"Edward?" gran repeats, scoffing and smiling at the same time. "He'd rather pull his teeth out than talk about things close to his heart."

"I've noticed," Bella replies, a little intimidated by gran's straight-forwardness. "What would you like to know?"

"Just one moment—Edward! Would you be a darling and turn on the radio?"

"Working on it!"

"Thank you!" Swiftly, gran finishes skinning her hare. She teaches Bella how to continue skinning as she washes and flavors her two hares before putting them in a stew pot with mace, capers, pickles, cayenne pepper and a dollop of mustard. "Edward tells me you're a doctor."

"No," Bella replies. "My grandfather was a paramedic when I moved in with him. I was—impressionable, I guess. I finished my bachelor's with the intention of going to medical school, but I… I changed my mind. I did my master's in Pharmacology and Toxicology at Michigan State University, worked at a pharmacy, that kind of thing. Edward's just teasing me about it because of how we met."

"You're not from Michigan?"

"No, not really. I was born in Charleston when my parents were on vacation, and I lived in Arkansas with them until I was fourteen."

"What happened to them?"

Bella leans back in her chair as the lamp turns on and the sound of Joni Mitchell fills the air. It's a surreal kind of moment, to find herself looking in Edward's grandmother's brown eyes. Gran, with the colorful beads in her hair, wearing a sweater she probably knitted herself; interested in her life in the middle of all the snow and mountains.

"Forgive me," gran says, humming and swinging gently to the radio. She reaches over the table and squeezes Bella's shoulder. "Mere curiosity."

There's something about that, the casual way gran dismisses her own question, so entirely content not to receive an answer, that speaks to Bella and allows her to understand Edward's reoccurring tendency not to answer. The refusal to be worried about, the casualness of dropping a subject, it was all gran. But it was Edward, too.

"I don't mind," she answers. "My parents are… different. They—when you look at the TV, and see someone who argues for everything they believe the Bible to stand for… literally. That's my parents. Homosexuality is a sin, abortion is a sin even if pregnancy results from rape, having sex before marriage is a sin, everything's a sin. Contraception, too. I don't agree with what they stand for, and I didn't back then, so I… I had a kind grandfather. Truly, so quiet and kind. So, I moved from Little Rock, from my parents with their little minds, to Gladstone in the Upper Peninsula. My grandfather loves the Hiawatha National Forest, and it's right next to Gladstone, so we went camping nearly every weekend for four years. I'd spent most of my life resenting the people around me, the people my parents wanted me to surround myself with… Moving in with my grandfather is the best choice I've ever made."

"But your parents are still alive?"

"Yes."

"What do they do?"

"My father is a U. S. Senator. Used to be Arkansas State Senator. My mom is… she organizes parties."

"Dwyer, are you? Your father must be Phil Dwyer. I think I've heard of him."

"Unfortunately."

"Don't say that," gran says. "There are people whose closed-mindedness creates more progress in the form of antipathy than the people who crave tolerance could ever achieve without them. Men like your father let us imagine what our future should never look like to make people who have a more open-minded opinion work that much harder."

Gran is focused on sharpening knives and doesn't appear to notice that Bella stops skinning to stare at her. She feels lighter, somehow, looking at her parents like gran described. For a few quiet moments, gran shows Bella how to finish skinning the hare in her hands, washes it and adds it in their stew.

"Can I ask you something?"

Gran nods.

"From the moment you understood your son was never going to take care of Edward, did you know that this lifestyle was what you wanted for him? Living in solitude, homeschooling, all of it?"

"I'd been a pilot for the Norwegian Air Lines for fourteen years by the time I'd decided to move back to Alaska. In '86, when I was here to spend my holiday, my son showed up with a package, and his name was Edward. I'd made the decision of staying here before he was in the picture, but I discussed it with my own father and neither of us wanted to find a permanent place in Anchorage or Dillingham at the time. So we homeschooled him."

"So you didn't want to keep him from the evil of the world?"

"No." Amused, gran makes eye contact. "No, I don't hate civilization. I just prefer to be a part of it as little as possible."

"Is that why you dog-sled?"

"That's a part of it. But I don't trust bush planes. I can fix one if needed, and I may fly one if a life needs saving, but I don't find it trust-worthy. Look at what happened to Ted Stephens."

"Bella," Edward says, and she jumps after hearing her name so close to her ear. She puts a hand on her heart, exhaling, while Edward smiles sheepishly and puts both arms on her shoulders. He leans over her so that she's looking at his face, upside-down. "Does the clothes washing offer still stand?"

"Of course." She smiles. She can feel his breath on her nose. "Um, ma'am, do you need any help? I don't have to…"

Gran flips them the bird, not looking up. Edward helps Bella up, but, unsure if she has upset gran, Bella looks back, making eye contact. "I can stay if you—"

Gran huffs, rolling her eyes as she flips her off again.

"I, uh, okay. I'll be with Edward if you need me."

Edward is laughing in silence as Bella gets dressed in the hallway, but Bella, who is slightly perturbed by gran, doesn't notice. "I upset her, didn't I?"

"There is a single thing you could do to upset her, and you were overwhelmingly sufficient in doing it right now."

"Shit." Bella pales. "I screwed up, didn't I? I didn't mean to. Is it okay if I go help her? I can totally go and—"

"Bella." Edward smiles, and brushes a coarse, cold finger over her cheek. "She doesn't want help. You're wounding her pride if you dare to suggest she might need help with anything." Smiling, and letting out a silly laugh at the face Bella makes, Edward pulls her into a hug. "She didn't make you skin that hare to get help. She did it so you would know how. So if you want to be on her good side, never offer to help. It's a pride thing."

"Kind of like someone else I know, huh?"

Not acknowledging her words, he lets go of her, turns her hat so that she could see better, opens the door, and puts her arms around his neck. Frowning, she holds on to him a fraction of a second before being swiped off her feet. "What are you—"

"The dogs," Edward replies, a little bashful. "I promised you could meet them properly in the daylight. I'm a man of my word."

His step falters when Bella flashes a grin and scratches his beard, but there's definitely a twinkle in his eyes.


	11. Bite-Machines

: :

"So do I finally get to be the damsel in distress?"

"Maybe," he answers. "If you agree this makes us even."

"What? You think carrying me over the yard twice is the same as me saving your life?"

"Pretty much." He flashes a smile, eyeing the three dogs sniffing and licking him. He stops walking. "So, if it's not the same, you wouldn't mind if I just... dropped you here? Nice and cozy snuggling with the huskies—"

"No! Edward! No!"

"But look, they're so cute and—"

"I will kill you if you let me drop right now!"

"Oh?" He starts walking again. "So we're even then?"

Bella huffs, mock-aghast. "I preferred it when you were the knight in distress."

"But we're even." He grins, pressing his cheek against hers as he teases her. "So are we even?"

"We are so not even."

"Billy! Scratchy! Jakey! Come on, doggy, come—"

"I hate you," Bella replies, a little too awed by his playfulness to look annoyed. Edward grins back at her.

"We are so even," he says.

"Are not."

"Even."

"No."

"Even."

"No."

"Even?"

"I love you."

His step falters as his arms, this time, genuinely almost slip from around Bella, but she holds on tight.

"What?" he asks, still playful but shocked by what he thought he just heard. "What did you just say?"

Bella strengthens her hold, smiling.

"Peek-a-boo."

"That's what you said?"

"Of course," she replies, smiling. "What did you hear?"

Shaking his head, exhaling, Edward smiles behind his scarf and tightens his hold on her. "I'm hearing voices."

"Tragic," she replies, straight-faced. "We're still not even."

One hand firmly around Bella, Edward slides the other one closer to her knees. "My hand is slipping… it's slipping. Jakey!"

"Don't you dare drop me!"

"Jakey, good doggy, look who we have here! It's my friend Bella—I bet she's very tasty."

"Edward!"

"Very, very tasty. You want to share, huh? I bet you do. That's too bad because I don't share."

"Move, Edward! He's sniffing my feet!"

Looking at the dog who is now attempting to lick Bella's foot, Edward mock-gasps.

"911, Bella! Immediately! Dangerous, massive bite-machine is licking your foot. We are doomed!"

Huffing but smiling, Bella snuggles close to Edward, hides her face in his scarf and stays like that until Edward continues to walk and makes it to the more distant shed-looking building. The light is on, door shut and dogs gone as Edward lowers Bella to the ground, slightly nervous that Bella is mad at him for teasing her.

But Bella, with an eye-roll but a big smile on her face, kisses his cheek. "You are the silliest man I've ever met," she says. "But don't think I won't murder you if you let me drop the next time just because you're cute."

"Cute?" he replies. "I'm not cute. I'm manly."

"Manly men don't argue when told they're cute."

Rubbing his beard, he seems to contemplate this. "You're right. I'm pretty damn adorable."

Happy that Edward is being his normal (silly) self, Bella huffs a laugh. "You're stupid. Let's wash some clothes."


	12. Hare Stew

: :

Having rubbed, battered and scrubbed her clothes, Bella understands she has grossly underestimated the energy and time an old-fashioned washing demands. Edward had dropped their clothes in a metal barrel filled with water (from melted snow) that was warmed by a large, stone stove, and they'd been scrubbing their clothes (and a few blankets) since, using Edward's eco-friendly soap. He was done with his things with half an hour, so when he started helping Bella with her stuff, she carefully handled her underwear herself. She wouldn't have, if she'd had to wash anything remotely sexy, but she didn't. It was all warm, boring cotton.

It took a surprising amount of physical strength, and by the time their clothes are soaking in clean, lukewarm water in a plastic basin, Bella is exhausted. They've kept up each others' spirits, joking and laughing, but after she's squeezed her last pair of pantyhose dry, Bella lies on a bench, eyeing Edward and sighing exaggeratedly.

"I'm impressed," she says, raising arms over her head to stretch and tickle Edward's knees. "If this is how you've washed your clothes since you're eleven, the rest of us should put our heads in the oven for ever complaining about any household chore. Ever."

"It's just once a fortnight," he replies.

"Don't downplay my amazement with your modesty."

Playing with her hair, Edward smiles.

"I would bow to you if I didn't feel like I just did two thousand push-ups," she continues, sitting up and resting elbows on her knees. Edward sits beside her. "How have you kept yourself from slapping anyone who's ever complained about a chore that's done by a machine? I bet you think the first world is filled with spoiled idiots."

"Sometimes," he admits, eyes filled with amusement.

"You have the patience of a mule, honestly," she says, resting her head on his shoulder as he wraps an arm around hers. "I'm sorry if I've ever been one of them, but I'm also sorry if you have to feed me through a straw tomorrow because of all the lactic acid in my arms."

"You haven't, and I won't mind," he answers. "So how about a shower?"

Bella grabs on to her sweater, sniffing it, and grimaces. "I stink, don't I."

He nuzzles her sweater, dramatically sniffing it, and smiles as he pulls back. "Like a sweaty pig."

"Hey!" she nudges him. "Women don't sweat. We glisten. Here—smell again. I bet it's all sunshine and roses and freshly mown grass."

He hides his nose in her pony tail, sniffing and nuzzling her neck, and grins when he catches her smiling. "How could I have made that mistake," he says, observing her face. "It's like a pig had a mud bath."

"Charming." She wriggles out from his arms. "Okay then, show me how to fix that situation."

After he's taken their washed clothes to the house and brought her clean clothes and a towel, she gets a tour of the room where pipes and a barrel of hot water end with a showerhead. It doesn't look like a bathroom, but it's warm and clean and that's all that matters. Edward is waiting for her in the next room, half-naked, when Bella walks out of the shower, and just as she's about to make a joke, he turns without a word and she's reminded of his heavily bruised back.

She removes the bandages, wraps them in a ball, and squeezes his shoulder. "Does it hurt a lot?"

He turns, facing her, but whatever he'd intended to say doesn't leave his mouth as he takes in the sight of Bella in nothing but his towel, hair falling on her shoulders. She's frowning at his bruises before making eye contact and searching his eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asks, sniffing her hair. "I still stink, don't I?

Leaning a bit closer, Edward slides his fingers through her hair, and so she sits, unmoving, trying to gauge his thoughts. He's more broad-shouldered than she'd realized.

Clearing his throat, he gets up. "Just—wait here, okay?"

"No, I think I'll go and have my head chopped off by one of your huskies."

He stops for a moment, opening his mouth to say something, but then, he leans to kiss her forehead. Smiling, Edward quickly averts his eyes and leaves Bella to stare after him, feeling a little light-headed.

They have dinner after he's carried her back to the house. It's the best kind of hare stew (not that Bella has much experience eating hares). Gran is sitting opposite them with her back to the fireplace, damp clothes hanging from the ceiling on either side of her.

Finished with dinner, Edward starts to carve his little wooden statue, but he lifts Bella's legs on his lap, and the carefree manner catches gran's eye. She starts eyeing them in a way that makes Bella feel see-through; she locks eyes with gran and it takes effort not to look away.

"Why don't you speak Aleut at home?" Bella asks, shifting. Gran has the most unnerving gaze.

"We do," gran answers, unblinking. "But it's impolite when you're here."

"I wouldn't mind."

Gran shrugs.

"Edward said you speak Norwegian, too. How many languages do you speak?"

"Only four," gran answers. "And three of them are of no use in Alaska. You should've seen Edward's face when he realized he's been taught a language with a couple of hundred speakers left."

Edward raises his head to look at them, but, adding nothing, he squeezes Bella's ankle and resumes to his carving.

"He told me how you took him to Unalaska to see where you grew up, and there were two people he could talk to in your native tongue," Bella says.

"Not much to do with Aleut in the world, I'm afraid."

Bella can't help but observe the woman in front of her, unyielding but kind, so straight-forward you want to squirm under her gaze. "When did you find the time to teach History?"

"Edward must've been five years old when I started and eleven, I think, when I quit. I substituted for two years, half a year at a time, before I left for four winters to teach in Dillingham. My father, still healthy at the time, taught Edward while I was away. But he got sickly and I got itchy feet, so I came back just in time to start teaching Edward how to fly." Sitting Indian style, she drinks the stew she made. "I regret nothing. I'm grateful for the life I've been given. I'm grateful for Edward."

Looking up, Edward smiles at granny.

"Do you know, you and Edward are more similar than you think."

"How come?"

"There's a lot more under surface than meets the eye," gran replies, observing her grandson. "Has Edward told you I put him in a high school in Dillingham when he was fourteen?"

"Yes," Bella replies, making a face. "He hated it."

"So much so that to this day, he's said nothing about the reason he left," gran says. "He was there for a week. When he didn't show up to school the following Monday, and my friend, the one he was staying with, hadn't seen him on the weekend, the entire town started searching for him. Police, volunteers, bush planes. Twelve days later, when we were all sure we'd never find out what happened to him, he walked in the door, a dead wolf on his shoulder. He laid it right here—" Gran makes a circle in front of them. "And started skinning. Not a word about school, how or why he killed the wolf, how he got here. Nothing. He just sat down without a word with that fresh, crescent moon-shaped scar on his eyebrow. My father and I were so relieved we didn't have the heart to send him back, so we homeschooled him for four more years."

"Don't exaggerate, gran. I did say a word," Edward says, not looking up. "I said hello."

Bella rolls her eyes, smiling at gran, and gran mirrors it.

"Tell me, Bella, how did you meet?"

Edward looks up. "I've told you."

"Yes," gran replies, pointing at him. "All four words of the story."

Bella tries to stifle the snicker that erupts, but when she's unsuccessful, she finds that gran is laughing along with her. "You're a gem, Edward," Bella says, leaning over to tickle his beard. Shrugging, Edward takes her hand and doesn't let go, not once looking up at Bella who catches gran's eyes. Saying nothing, gran watches them, unblinking. Smiling.


	13. Day -863: How They Met

: :

The first day of November, for Bella, began with her first night shift. It was memorable, for sure, with customers dressed as Spider Men, Bugs Bunnies and lamp posts, and not only did she forget she had to drink more cupfuls of black tea than her bladder would've liked, she was having fun. But at seven AM, Bella nevertheless welcomed Eric with a warm cup of coffee and a grateful, tired smile before heading home. She drove through the clear but dark morning of East Lansing, repeatedly reminding herself to feed Emmett's cat.

The building she lived in had been turned into a two family house—Emmett and Rosalie got the part attached to the garage, including the second floor, and Bella had a side door with a kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom. A door separated their homes, and the only times she used it was when she took care of their cat. They'd flown to Vermont the previous night to visit Emmett's family, so today was one of those times.

It struck Bella as odd, however, that after turning off her engine on the driveway, an engine was still running. No lights, no TV, just an engine. She put palms on her ears, took them off, and, convinced she wasn't hearing voices, stepped out of her car. She unlocked her door as inconspicuously as possible. Having thrown her bag on the couch, she pressed her ear against the door that separated their homes.

A car engine was running.

Taking a deep breath, she put a phone in her pocket, and touched the spray part of her pepper spray can to make sure she wasn't going to spray it on herself. Her head started aching, but, heart beating rapidly, she ignored it.

"Emmett?" she called, unlocking the door between them. She threw it open with more force than necessary, turning on their lights. "Emmett!"

Nobody answered.

Holding an arm in front of her, she stumbled on a pair of shoes as she switched on the lights of the corridor, then the living room. The garage door was wide open, and the sound of a car engine, although reasonably quiet, got louder the closer she got. She smelt gasoline.

Garage was empty, but, feeling eerie, Bella continued to call out Emmett's and Rosalie's name, wondering if she should call the police. Her headache grew. She felt dizzy.

She turned off the engine, leaning on Emmett's car, still gripping the bottle of her pepper spray. Something felt wrong.

Shoes—she had stumbled on shoes.

With a finger ready to call the cops, she yelled for the cat as she went back to the house, and felt blood drain from her face when she noticed socks hanging from the armrest of the couch. Socks that belonged to a person. Not daring to breathe, she quietly sneaked up to the man, a hairy man with a well-groomed beard but hair in need of a barber, wearing striped, stained pajamas and sleeping with both palms under his cheek.

Locking her phone, sighing, Bella thought she'd wake up the homeless person in such desperate need of a roof he'd break into a house to sleep on a couch.

"Excuse me, sir?" Feeling nauseated, she shouted, "Excuse me!"

Directing her pepper spray at him, just in case, with a pounding headache, she poked his shoulder. He seemed remarkably well-built for a homeless person, but when he didn't react, Bella shook him.

His pulse was barely there.

Sleepy and nervous but frantic, she took a second to observe the living room. Keys and a phone were on the living room table, a blanket fallen on the floor, clothes folded neatly near his feet. The air seemed drenched in gasoline, and suddenly, she knew.

Whoever he was, he wasn't homeless. Deaf? Maybe. Homeless, no.

Emmett's friend? Maybe.

With a carbon monoxide poisoning? Likely.

Calling the ambulance, she rushed from window to window, letting in the sobering, chilly air. She crouched near the couch, gripping underneath his arms, and dragged the unconscious man on the porch. His pulse was gone by the time she made it, and she performed prickly CPR on him for only a minute before she could feel his pulse again.

Dealing with the ambulance was tricky because she had to search through his (two) bags to find out who he was, but by sunrise, the sirens left and she, with a headache, opened every window of their house, carrying a sleepy-looking but alive cat in her arms. She made a nest for him near her bedroom window, with food and water by Ralf's side, piled all her blankets on her bed, and made a similar nest for herself.

It still felt like yesterday. She was exhausted, her head ached, and she worried about the strange man they'd taken away.

After sending a text to Emmett and Rosalie, she snuggled closer to her pillows, fully clothed, with Ralf cuddled up on top of her feet. In the back of her mind, she knew maybe she should've worried about an actual burglar with windows and doors wide open, but she had pepper spray under her pillow, so instead, she found herself calling her grandfather. It might've been the overwhelming adrenaline, or the headache, or her night shift at the pharmacy, that made her want to talk to him. Probably a combination of the three.

"Morning, sunshine," her grandfather said, a smile in his voice. "Thirty one and foggy."

"Thirty five but clear," Bella replied, tiptoeing to the windows to close her temporary curtains. "I win," she added, finding warmth under her covers. "So how are you and your knee today?"

"I'm great," he replied. "My knee is on vacation. We have a mutual agreement not to annoy each other today. How was your first night shift?"

"Interesting." She pulled the blankets closer to her ears, grinning in spite of her headache. "I saved a life today. Emmett's friend, I think. A handsome, homeless-looking fellow. Probably deaf."

"Oh?"

"Try to contain your pride, grandpa."

Bella imagined her grandfather's smile as he set aside his newspaper and adjusted his rocking chair. His rustling stopped, and she was sure he held a warm cup of coffee against his chest.

"How about you start from the beginning."


	14. Afternoon

: :

The phone vibrating in her hand woke Bella up. It was cold. Sleepy, she pulled covers over her head, but as the vibrating didn't stop, she wiped hair from her face and took the call. Cursing and shivering, she was only half-listening to Rosalie as she ran from window to window to close them before jumping on her bed and pulling blankets over her head.

"Didn't register a single thing you just said," she replied. "Rewind."

"You have to go." Rosalie sighed. "To Grand Rapids. To see him. His only emergency contact is in some god-forsaken valley in Alaska. Emmett is browsing for return tickets as we speak. But you have to go. Emmett—he, God, you should see him right now. He left the car running, and… shit, you just have to go, okay?"

"Who? Wait, what? What time is it?"

"It's three PM. Please, please do this. Emmett is going out of his mind."

"Wait, how do you know he's in Grand Rapids?"

"My cousin was flown there to be in a hyperbaric chamber or something after the exhaust vent of their furnace was broken, can't remember exactly. But I already called—he's there. Please, I'm—"

"I'm one leg out the door," Bella replied, petted Ralf and got up, blankets wrapped around her. "I'll do it."

"Really?"

"Really," Bella said, getting dressed under the blanket, pressing her shoulder against her ear to keep the phone in place. "Don't rush with the tickets. Text me the address. I'll go check on him, and let you know. You stay right there, okay? You've waited to be with Emmett long enough."

Rosalie paused. "You have no idea the state Emmett is in right now—"

"Give him the phone."

A moment of rustling later, Emmett sighed.

"Listen. You have no idea—I'm really fucking sorry—"

"I'd be worried if you weren't," Bella replied. "That's when I'd have a problem with you. So, this dude, is he deaf?"

"What?"

"The guy I saved, is he deaf? How in the world did he fall asleep to the sound of your car?"

"He didn't. He was already on the couch when I left—shit, you have no idea, Bella—I've never… I was in such a hurry—Edward sleeps with earplugs because he can't sleep in the city and—fucking hell. Please, Bella. I'll cook for you for a month, whatever the fuck. Just go see him."

"I already said yes to your fiancée," Bella said. "But food would be nice."

"Yes? You have no idea how sorry—"

"Stay put and eat candy. There's nothing you can do right now. Go visit your family, and I'll call you after I've seen him. Deal?"


	15. Days -861: Nonconformist Gratitude

: :

An hour and a half later, Bella found that she didn't need to use any of the emergency lies she'd made up to be allowed to see him. Having said who she wanted to see, the elderly receptionist simply told her to go down the hallway, upstairs, and make a right. So she did. Edward was sleeping, alone, in a remarkably unremarkable room, wearing an oxygen mask. And even though Bella had hoped to talk to him to find out more about who he was and why he was at Rosalie's place, she sat and emptied his bag on the bedside table. She was halfway through an explanation on a piece of paper when, looking up, she noticed Edward watching her.

"Hey," Bella said, smiling as she rumpled her explanation. Pushing hair from his face, Edward offered a meager smile. In spite of the scar on his eyebrow, or perhaps because of it, he appeared handsome in a very rugged, homeless way. He had mild acne on his face, enough to be noticed but not enough to ruin his features. Unsurprisingly, he looked tired.

"Before you ask, because I know you will, no, I don't sleep with a curling iron. I was born this way." She leaned closer, pulling her braided (curly) hair, whispering, "My father was a sheep."

He smiled, and she returned it.

"I brought you your toothbrush, phone and wallet. I brought your anti-depressants, too, but you should know I'm not above killing you should you be mad at me for saving you."

There was a twinkle in his eyes when he smiled.

"Are you usually this talkative or am I special?"

Wearing the same good-natured but exhausted expression, Edward offered his hand. His oxygen mask fogged when he spoke. "Edward."

"Bella." Relieved, she smiled as they shook hands. "It's a pleasure. Do you know when they'll let you out?"

"Tomorrow, I think, depending on my blood work."

"Right." She handed him his phone, motioning for him to unlock it, saved her number and called herself on his phone. "There. Call me when they let you out. I'll take you back to Emmett's, or wherever you need to go."

"You really don't have to—"

"You haven't spoken to Emmett," she replied. "I do. I really do. And I don't mind."

He stared at her in silence, intense, as if trying to figure her out. Unable to do so, he once again wiped hair from his face before clearing his throat. "Are you the Bella who got into medical school? I think Emmett mentioned you."

"Emmett also almost killed you," she answered. "Not to be trusted, clearly."

"You're not a medical student?"

"Getting in and attending are two separate concepts, and I'm only familiar with the former."

Unafraid of his silence, Bella patiently waited as he gathered his thoughts.

"How—" He coughed. "What happened?"

She shared what she knew of the night before. It felt familiar, too familiar, to do all the speaking, but the attention he gave her words made her feel a bit awkward, a bit flattered. Intense. She learned that he didn't talk much. He said a lot with the words he did choose, but he didn't talk much. It was refreshing, and it reminded her of home.

After the hour and a half it took for her to drive him to East Lansing the next day, she'd shared stories of her childhood, high school and college years. In return, she found out that he was from Alaska. That was it. And even that wasn't news for her.

Even though it was only three PM, she searched through most closets to find clean sheets for Edward to sleep on, but he, in that same calm, good-natured manner, gripped her forearm as she started to lay out his sheets.

"I've got it," he said quietly, eyes smiling. "I'm okay. I'll take it from here. Thank you."

His gentleness caught her off guard, and it surprised her how warm his mildly affectionate gesture made her feel. The door between their homes was kept open as the electric furnaces warmed the place to an agreeable temperature. Bella, who was studying for an exam on her laptop, caught glimpses of him as he seemed to be cooking meat and taking occasional breaks. She knew he had a headache, and he seemed disorientated, but he brushed off all her attempts to help and refused to lie down.

So it just happened that in the middle of mumbling biochemistry to herself, a delicious-smelling, entire pig was placed in front of her laptop. Snout and all. Confused, Bella looked up.

"To thank you," Edward said, leaning against the backrest of a chair next to her. "A life for a life. I'm grateful."

For all the three seconds it took for her to blink, his demeanor changed, and his face fell. "I'm not used to people. I don't know your traditions or what you… it's not enough, is it? I'm sorry."

Avoiding her eyes, he removed the pig from her table, but, understanding the situation enough to realize she was performing some sort of criminal offence in his world, she jumped up. "No! Sorry, sorry. It's more than enough, you just caught me off guard. Thank you."

She knew she'd made the right decision when she saw the relief with which he returned the pig on her table. A pig that might just feed her until Easter.

"Would you like some?" Bella asked, hoping not to offend him.

Smiling, he brought plates, and cut two enormous pieces of pork for them. Still staring at the oddity and wondering where in the world he found a whole pig in such short notice, Bella bit into her pork chop, made eye contact with Edward, and grinned.

"Are you a cook?"

His eyes held amusement in them, but he didn't answer as he started eating. "Would you like some help with studying? I'm not very good, but I can check your answers if you let me see them."

She knew next to nothing about the man, not even his age. But, despite his little oddities, taciturn manner, or how he tended to shrug off most personal questions, there was something about him. Just… something. Maybe the unapologetic way of being content with silence, maybe a different background. But she found herself fascinated by him.

Nodding, she slid her laptop in front of him, telling him what to do, and let him sit on the couch when he looked too disorientated to continue. At exactly ten PM, though, he took his medicine and helped her for another hour before falling asleep on her couch. It was all very strange, but she didn't mind much. She wasn't overly fond of being awake alone at night, so instead of waking him, she covered him with a blanket and continued to study until one AM.

Bella left a little note on her table for Edward before she left in the morning. She thought of calling her grandpa while driving to the pharmacy, but he beat her to it.

"Thirty seven, overcast but windless," Bella answered, wearing earbuds to talk hands free. "You are so not getting points for today if that's why you called."

"Aha," he replied. "Forty _with a clear sky_."

"You suck." Her grandpa laughed. "Okay, grandpa, what do you know about trazodone?"

"Mmm," he answered. "Why?"

"The guy I saved is taking it. Just wondering if I should be worried."

"I don't know every drug in the world, you know."

"Thanks for the sound of crushing my childhood ideals," she replied. "Seriously, though, do you know it?"

"It depends on how much and how often and for which reasons he's taking it… it could be anything. Insomnia, anxiety, depression. You know you can't determine an illness based on a prescription. It's usually done vice versa. Why is it important?"

"I… don't know," she answered. "I guess I just… I like him. I know nothing about him, but—I don't know. I feel like he's vulnerable, I guess, to the world. He definitely doesn't have a conformist approach to socializing."

"How old is he?"

"Twenty five-ish to thirty five-ish."

"What does he do?"

"I have no idea. But you'll never guess what he did to thank me for saving his life."

"Bought you a dozen roses and asked you to marry him."

"Hardy har, har," she said. "No. He cooked a pig."

"A pig?"

"A pig. An entire pig. Snout, tail, all of it."

"Oy," grandpa replied, a smile in his voice. "Sounds like you got yourself a keeper."


	16. Day 8: Hope Left, Hope Right

: :

Edward had returned to carving when Bella curls up next to him. Her knees fall slightly on his thighs, and he places a thin blanket on both of their legs when she gets cold. She returns his smile, but doesn't stop telling her story. Gran, meanwhile, starts knitting. Bella pauses to see if they're listening, but continues when both raise their eyes to see what caused her to stop. When she's done, she observes the fire that reflects in Edward's eyes, and leans against the back of the couch. She snuggles closer to him.

Eyeing their silent interaction, gran asks, "Where did you get a pig?"

Not raising his eyes, Edward shrugs. "I originally got it for Rosalie's engagement, but they left two days early, so I… I made it for Bella."

Bella fakes a gasp. "You mean it wasn't for me?! I'm outraged."

Chuckling lightly, Edward sets aside his carving but says nothing.

"We bonded over shared love for our grandparents," Bella continues. "And being raised by them. I guess I didn't fully grasp how differently Edward had been brought up until I saw him eat raw garlic for breakfast. His dietary preferences are peculiar, to say the least. "

"That's not his upbringing," gran says. "Not all, at least. That's just Edward."

"Good to know," Bella replies.

Eyeing them, gran gathers her knitting, gets up, and looks at Edward, smiling.

"Please take a look at Trevor if you find the time. He's been broken since Monday."

"Sure."

She puts a coat on. "Angela promised to come by on Tuesday," she continues, watching Edward with an expression Bella is unable to decipher. "To bring soap and salt and a new solar panel. Already paid for."

"Noted."

Bella frowns at the silent interaction that followed their simple enough words, but before she could ask, gran walks over to hug her and Edward. "Sweet dreams," she says, gathering fur from the corner. "Can I have a word with you, Bella?"

Feeling like she's going to get scolded, Bella piles their blanket on Edward's lap and gets up. "Sure."

Gran gives nothing away, but Bella, who locks eyes with Edward before pulling his warm coat on, feels increasingly nervous when gran closes the door between the tiny hallway and the living room. Puppies wail in the corner, and for a fraction of a second, Bella is sure gran is going to tell her that Edward is engaged to Angela and she's on their way.

"Decisions based on guilt are not worth making."

"Excuse me?"

"Decisions based on guilt are not worth making," she repeats, pouring water for Alice, holding fur in her lap before opening the front door. "False hope is the last thing he needs."

Bella watches as gran shuts the door and walks downstairs, and dogs waggle their tails around her, looking like they hadn't seen gran for a year. In a flash of clarity, Bella opens the door, yelling in the cold, snowy night, "Who said there's anything false about those hopes!"

She grips the doorknob as hard as she can as a big, black dog starts jumping upstairs, but she doesn't move. Gran turns, grinning and whistling for the black dog to return to her, which the husky does.

"Then you are exactly the girl I thought you were," she replies, and when Bella feels gran's smile and sincerity in her bones, she knows that, coming from gran, it might just be the biggest compliment she's ever received.

"Good night!"

Keeping a watchful eye on every dog surrounding gran, Bella yells, "Where are you going?"

"To sleep!"

"Outside? There's enough room in the—"

"Keep the room."

"But I—"

She flips the bird, and even halfway across the yard in the darkness, Bella can see mirth in her eyes when she looks back. Nervous but daring to hope, Bella takes off Edward's coat when she returns to the living room. She sits next to him, shoulder to shoulder, curling legs beneath her. Feeling her eyes on him, he, once again, sets aside his carving, and wraps an arm around her shoulder. It's warm, being in his arms.

"Who's Trevor?"

"Gran's tiny wind-up radio. She named it after the inventor, Trevor Baylis. It generates electricity with the winding motion of your hand that spins the rotor, so you can use it in remote places."

"Cool," she replies, resting her head on his shoulder. "Will you show it to me sometime?"

"Of course. Tomorrow, if you want."

"And Angela?"

"She's…" Edward sighs, slowly, and it doesn't sound promising. "Mike's sister. She supplies us with stuff, sometimes."

Not sure if she wants to hear why their reaction to the name was so strange, Bella starts playing with Edward's fingers. He's observing her, making her feel nervous and butterfly-y, kissing her temple and squeezing her closer to him. The fire is nearly out.

"What do you want to do tonight?"

She places the blanket on top of them, feeling his eyes on her. "Talk."

"Aren't you just easy to please," he replies softly, smiling.


	17. Day 9: The Initiator Problem

: :

Bella finds herself looking at embers in the distance as an eerie sort of rumble wakes her up. She freezes, listening to the unnerving sound the source of which she cannot find. She almost steps on Edward's head when she gets up from the couch, sneaks to her bag, takes off her itchy bra and puts on a top. She throws a few logs on the embers (the fire lights up the room) before sneaking from room to room, trying to locate the source. She crouches next to Alice, but her puppies make more of a high-pitched wail-like sound. Freezing each time the noise echoes, she finds herself crouching next to Edward, wondering if she should wake him up. He'll tease her to death if it's something silly, but what if it's an avalanche and it's important to tell him? Either way, the sound is creeping her out.

She gently nudges him, but he smacks his lips and turns on his left side. She switches sides and runs fingers through his hair. They're soft and short and so unlike the rough edges of him.

He blinks at her, rubbing his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, it's just—" She sits on the carpet next to his mattress. "What is that sound?"

He lifts his head—his pillow is on the floor—as they listen. His eyes widen before he opens his blanket to make room for her. "Come here." Petrified, she snuggles close to him. He covers her with his blanket and wraps her in his arms. She finds her own arms trapped between them, but she's so in awe of his reaction she can't complain.

"What is that?" she asks, daunted by the noise. Edward takes a breath, blows on her hair and squeezes her tighter.

"You don't want to know," he says.

"I'm scared."

He shushes her, caressing her hair, but when he doesn't say anything, she leans away to see his face.

He's grinning his face off, eyes closed.

"The hell is that smug smile supposed to mean?"

He tries to stifle it, but the amusement in his eyes is unmistakable.

"You're making it, aren't you."

"I am not."

"But you know what's making it. Stop laughing at me!"

Still smiling, he runs a hand through her hair and sighs.

"It's the roof," he replies. "It needs replacing."

"You insufferable man," she accuses, gripping his pillow and smacking him with it. "Do you know how scared I was?"

"I'm sorry," he says, easily holding his pillow away from her. Still sleepy and eyelids half closed, he smiles shyly and admits, "I just wanted to sleep next to a warm girl. Can you blame me?"

"Smooth," she replies, but she digests his words too slowly because his playful expression falls and he looks genuinely ashamed.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, rubbing his eyes. "You can go back to the couch. I'm sorry I worried you."

Kneeling on his mattress, she blinks at him. "I don't, I mean—can I—" She averts her eyes because she's not bold enough to ask, but Edward wanted her here, right? So instead of finishing her sentence, she lies next to Edward, wraps her fingers around his wrist and puts his arm around her. He intertwines his legs with hers and pulls her close. Shyly, she looks up at him.

"This okay?"

This time, he kisses the top of her head, she's sure of it. "Very."

She presses her cheek against his shoulder, realizing how dangerous this new hope was. Because they've been this close before, and he's blown her off before. Maybe she'd come on too strong, maybe she'd been quick to misjudge his actions as something other than friendly affection, but maybe Jasper had been right all along. Maybe the fact that she had always had to make the first move, with the exception of Tyler, meant that she was never going to find someone who would reciprocate a fraction of what she felt. Because nobody had felt strongly enough to initiate anything, or fight for her.

She wasn't against making the first move—clearly, she never had. Grandpa always said that guys were easier to understand if you made it clear what you wanted; elephant in the room and all that. She'd followed his words, always had. She'd been blown off more than most girls her age because she'd never been afraid to ask guys out. Bella didn't mind. But what gran in her attempt to protect her grandson didn't know was that she'd already made it clear what she wanted (not the depth, of course), and he'd rejected her. Jasper's words had haunted her for days afterwards.

Their friendship survived, miraculously. Bella had more or less clammed up, but Edward, in an up-side-down turn of events, had been sweeter and more attentive than ever (until Tyler). It was strange. He'd claimed not to want anything, but behaved like he did, and it messed up her mind and heart.

Too many times, she'd been told by someone she asked out that she wasn't the type to have fun with—she was the type to marry. She was the girl next door with the curly hair and the sweet fucking face and she hated it. She wanted to be the girl to have fun with _and_ spend a life with. She didn't even know if she cared about marriage. Maybe she did, maybe she didn't. As long as she found someone who trusted her and reciprocated what she felt, she guessed it didn't matter.

She hoped it to be Edward, of course, but, maybe he was adding fuel to her fire without knowing it. But if they spent the next two weeks being close like this, like they used to be, with neither of them attempting anything, she'd probably tell him how she felt on her last day here. Just so he'd know. Because he deserved to know. Their friendship would never survive, of course, with the distance, and she would go home to grandpa with a broken heart, but at least he'd know, and she could finally move on. She hoped.

He's almost asleep when she realizes that his feet, unlike hers, are too long for his blanket. She pulls a sleeping bag from the couch and throws it on his feet before Edward tightens his hold on her. She kisses his shoulder.

"Sweet dreams," he whispers.


	18. Day -861: Bright-Eyed and Bushy-Tailed

: :

When Bella arrived home from work at around five PM, there was a note on her refrigerator door that said, _'12 h shift. Back at 9.'_ She wasn't sure if she was upset that Edward went to work with the aftermath of carbon monoxide poisoning still in his system, or glad she got to focus solely on her online exam, which she did. Half past nine, when she heard his front door close, she gently knocked on the door that separated them. He opened it with a smile on his ash-covered face.

"I made tea if you want some," Bella said, motioning at her kitchen. "I have cookies."

"Let me just—" Edward sighed, shy-looking. "—wash my face."

Five minutes later, Edward sat around her kitchen table, fidgeting but happy. He kept glancing on top of her refrigerator until, finally, he asked, "Do you mind if I take one?"

"Not at all."

Bella, who had thought he meant a banana, gaped a little when Edward bit into a peeled onion. She felt a bit like having the Encino man in her kitchen.

"Where do you work?"

"Lansing Fire Department," he replied, continuing to eat his onion as if it was an apple. He wore regular clothes, a woolen sweater and jeans, nothing strange. He was remarkably well-built, but given his dietary preferences and the level of fitness his job demanded, she wasn't surprised. When he wouldn't stop fidgeting and kept glancing at the TV, jumping at every gunshot in the movie, Bella shut it off.

He relaxed, smiling sheepishly. "You don't have to. I can just go."

"No, no." She shrugged him off. "I wasn't watching anyway. I'm just—I don't like being alone in the dark."

He stared at her like he wasn't sure what fear was. Quietly, he asked, "Would you feel safer if I left the door between us open for the night?"

"Yes," she replied, embarrassed by her answer. "I'm not… I'm not scared of the dark or anything. It's just, I've been in the house when it's been robbed twice, and I… it's silly."

"Fear is only silly when there's no reason for it," he answered, walking to the door that separated them and opening it. He returned and sat down, observing her in silence. It scared her how attractive she found this silent man.

"Do you mind if I ask how old you are?"

"Twenty seven. You?"

"Three years less," she replied. "How do you know Emmett?"

"I don't. Rosalie is my cousin."

"How long have you been in Michigan?"

"Almost four months now," he replied, watching Bella as she put a few pieces of yesterday's meat in the microwave. He sighed. "And I'm not suicidal, in case you were wondering about my anti-depressants."

"Why do you take them?"

"Sleep. Anxiety. Mostly sleep. It's… hard to explain."

"I have time."

Resting elbows on the table, he warmed fingers with the tea mug Bella gave him. "I grew up in a remote place."

"Like a small town?"

"No." His eyes lit up from amusement. "Like a house that's 130 miles away from its nearest neighbor."

Intrigued, Bella motioned for them to sit on the couch. She placed their plates and mugs on the coffee table and got perhaps the sincerest thanks for microwaved food she's ever received. Having seen him glance at the onions on top of her refrigerator, she offered him all four, and watched with fascination as he peeled and bit into another.

"I'm still not used to…" He motioned at the kitchen. "Anything. I try, but… it's too different. And it's… it's loud. It's so loud. Just the constant background noise of cars and machines and alarms and… I don't know how you stand it. At home, I can tell if it's a rat or a marmot rustling in the shed across the yard. But here… I can't even hear my own thoughts."

Bella made a face, saddened but fascinated. "I wish I could help you."

"I'm fine," he said, brightening somewhat as he looked at her.

"And the anxiety?"

"Stupid, stupid stuff," he replied, sighing. "I can't explain it. I guess I'm… naïve, for lack of a better word. At first I was unaware of it because I had nothing to compare it to. But once I experienced how susceptible I am to… to—lies and cheating and, you know, random stuff a man my age should never be vulnerable to, it's ridiculous. Daunting." He ran a hand over his face, mildly embarrassed. "I don't even know why I'm bothering you with this."

"It's no bother, I swear," she replied. "I'm ridiculously interested. Tell me if you feel like I'm prying, but… did you have electricity, growing up?"

"Yeah, of course. Wind turbines, a solar panel. They're unreliable at times, but we do have them."

"You and your…?"

"My gran. My gran's dad, Carl, too, but he died when I was a teenager. But, thanks to them, I grew up without knowing what it feels like to be cheated, and now I'm paying for it. I can't recognize it."

"I grew up with my grandfather, too. I lived with him as a teenager."

His eyes lit up. "Really?"

"He's my favorite person in the whole world," Bella replied, enjoying the spark in his eyes. "What's your gran like?"

"Amazing. Honest and… a bit rude, I guess, according to the society's standards, but what do I know? I'm still learning the society's standards."

"What about your parents?"

"Mom died giving birth to me. She belonged to a Tlinkit tribe at the Alaskan Panhandle. My dad was a diplomat. He died less than a year ago."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Edward said, setting aside his dinner, thanking her for it. "I didn't know him, really. What's that name, the fat guy in a red dress who comes by once a year?"

Bella couldn't help but laugh. "Santa Claus?"

"Yes," Edward replied. "Well, for me, that was my dad. I saw him once in every five years, I think, before I wanted to get to know him a year ago. So I quit my job as a bush flyer at the Denali National Park and Preserve, and flew to Edmonton to see him, but—" He shrugs. "I was too different, too rough around the edges, too embarrassing to meet his friends. I started having problems with anxiety after spending a week with him. Then, I flew over to the Alaskan Panhandle to see where my mom came from, and proceeded to trace her relatives, so… here I am."

When Bella observed him in silence, he cracked his knuckles, standing up. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I never talk. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"It's okay," she replied with a sheepish smile of her own. "I actually find you quite fascinating."

When he grinned, all bright, tender eyes and vulnerable expression, Bella knew she was a goner, and she didn't even know the guy properly.

"What annoys you the most about society?" Bella asked, piling dishes in the sink.

He was rubbing his neck in a way that implied a headache. "What doesn't annoy me about society?"

"Touché."

"Thank you for dinner." He tilted his head on the side, touching a loose curl before pulling her in a gentle, brief hug. "I'm sorry I keep eating your pig."

"Please keep it up," she replied. "Or I'll be eating it until Easter."

Reaching the door frame, he turned, smiling, suddenly a little shy. "Sweet dreams, Bella. See you tomorrow."

"Sweet dreams," she replied, returning his smile and already searching for her phone to call grandpa.

"Thirty two and cloudy," he answered, pausing in the middle of a word to keep the phone away from his ear because of Bella's muffled squealing. With a coat on, Bella paced outside, cursing the cold but not wanting Edward to overhear. "So?" grandpa asked, amused.

"Twenty, from the feel of it, but you can have this point because I like Edward."

"The homeless-looking guy?"

"I said that? I guess I did. But he's really super sweet, grandpa, and he spoke more than two words to me. He grew up with his grandmother, and tried to reconnect with his dad. He's like me, except more interesting. He's kind of amazing."

"Sounds like someone's got a crush," grandpa replied. "So you deduced all of that from a single evening you spent with him?"

"Hey now. Let me be happy."

He paused. "Be happy. Just don't get ahead of yourself."

"Fine," she replied. "I'll remind myself to be super depressed from eight AM to eight oh one. Happy?"

"Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Sweet dreams, Bella."

* * *

**A/N:** Your thoughts make me ridiculously happy. Thank you so much for reading!


	19. Day -842: Nightly Conversations

: :

They developed a routine during the three weeks that followed. It had its gaps because of their different schedules, and sometimes days passed without seeing each other. Sometimes they spent a few hours of the evening drinking tea, sharing few words, reading, studying, listening to the radio; but sometimes, and those days were few and far between, they sat on the couch, getting to know each other. Those were Bella's favorites. On one of those days, the 22nd of November, a Tuesday, Bella was curled up under a little blanket right next to Edward whose hair was three inches shorter. It wasn't that Bella hated the length of his hair before, but now, his short haircut made him look her age. It made him handsome. Less approachable.

Too many times, she forgot herself and stared at him as he searched for a radio channel to listen to on her laptop. It was one of the many odd things about him: unnecessary noise made him uncomfortable, but radio made him feel at home.

She hadn't listened to the radio outside of her car for years, probably. It was fascinating. Odd, but fascinating, to feel at home when the radio was on.

"Did you miss your parents growing up?" Bella asked after Edward had found a channel he liked.

Tilting his head on the side, he eyed her, frowning. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"I mean… did you feel like you were missing out on something?"

"Is that how you felt when you moved in with your grandfather?"

"Maybe a little. My grandpa practically raised me anyway until I was ten. I thought my life was over when he moved to Upper Michigan, but I went after him four years later, so it all worked out. What about you?"

"It's hard to explain."

"Try me," she replied, waiting patiently as Edward started playing with her loose curl. The simple gesture made her happy and slightly nervous.

"I didn't… I never knew you were supposed to have a mother and a father, if that makes sense. I never knew it was unusual to grow up with a gran and a great-grandfather. I didn't attend kindergarten or school, so I had no peers to compare myself to. It was only in my late teens that I realized what the standard family was supposed to look like, but by then, I… I guess I felt it was something out of the books. Imagine… Imagine never knowing how easily a washing machine works. I didn't. How can you miss something you didn't know existed? I didn't miss my parents because I never knew my life was out of the ordinary. I never knew you were supposed to have a mom and a dad, so it never occurred to me to wish for them to be there, because for me, gran and great-grandfather were all I knew."

"This is silly, but… what did you do for fun?"

"Listened to the radio. Played chess. Carved wooden figures. Hiked." He smiled. "We hunted a lot. Still do. I've learned that to most people, that sounds cruel, but… you've never seen how we do it. When I was a kid, I learned to sneak up on the prey, trace them, smell them, feel them, be them… when I was still learning and only managed to wound the animal, gran always killed my prey not to torture them. There's, like, a prayer, I guess, that my great-grandfather taught me after killing an animal, but it's not like you pray to your God. It's a form of gratitude, I guess. Hard to explain without sounding like a lunatic in your world."

"No, I—it sounds incredible. You don't kill in vain."

"We don't," he replied. She smiled to herself when he shifted closer. "I could teach it to you, but it's in Aleut, so it's just sounds and whispers to you."

"Aleut?"

"A language of the Eskimo-Aleut language family. Practically dead. It's pointless for me to even know how to speak it, to be honest."

"Can you say something?"

He paused, and the slightest of blushes covered his cheeks. "Ting umchuda."

"Sounds and whispers is just about right," she replied. "What does it mean?"

Eyeing her silently, almost carefully, he gave away nothing.

"Wait! Wait, can you spell it for me? Let me google it."

He squeezed her, a bit startled by the possibilities of the internet, but Bella didn't find a single response even when she used quotation marks. Giving up, she leaned against the back of the couch, observing him. He seemed slightly embarrassed.

"It's something rude, isn't it?"

"No."

"Would I like it?"

He smiled, good-natured and so handsome with his short hair, she felt a bit intimidated by how out of her league he felt for her. But she wasn't going to focus on it.

"I don't know," he answered simply.


	20. Nightly Conversations Continue

: :

"Do you like reading?"

"Not as much as hiking and hunting. It depends. My great-grandfather made a library of sorts for himself on the other side of our mountain and filled most of it with Russian literature. Bored me to death when gran insisted that I read it. But I did love Tony Hillerman's Navajo mysteries as a teenager. They spoke to me. Tolkien, too, I guess. Anything with nature. I don't like stories set in cities. I get bored."

"Have you seen the movies?"

"Which ones?"

"The Lord of the Rings."

He paused, staring at her, excited but embarrassed.

"You didn't know they were made into movies, did you," she replied, trying to speak in a tone that didn't mock his oblivion. "I can show them to you, if you want. I have all three. Are you free on Saturday?"

Getting over his embarrassment, he smiled, all white teeth and bright eyes. "Saturday it is."

"Great!" she replied, much too excited to have a movie marathon with Edward. "So, when was the first time you went to town? Didn't gran take you when she was there for necessities?"

"Not until I was fourteen. She put me in a proper high school in Dillingham, scared that I'd be socially awkward around people my age, but I didn't like it. I shared no interests with them. So I went back home after a week."

"How?"

"How what?"

"Sounds like you live in the middle of nowhere. How did you go back?"

"Walked." Done with the subject matter, he eyed her, playing the same strand of hair with an unreadable expression on his face. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You work awfully lot for someone who goes to school full time."

"It's an online program," she explained. "And I know that sounds like the easiest thing in the world, but it's not. I have friends who eye-roll when they hear I'm busy and can't spend time with them sometimes, but it's… it's more intense than it seems."

"It doesn't sound like the easiest thing in the world," he replied, eyes soft. "It sounds like you're dedicated. Do you like it?"

"Very much."

"Why didn't you go to medical school?"

"Finances and… I guess I finally realized it wasn't for me. I like the science behind medicine. When I was little, I guess I idolized my grandpa a lot. I still do it, I think. But I wanted to be so much like him I thought I had to choose the same path in life. And that's just not true at all, is it? I can still analyze his priorities and apply them to my life as I see fit, but I don't have to make the same decisions. He helped me realize that this spring when he saw me struggling to decide."

"What about your parents?"

"Remember when you told me about trying to reconnect with your dad? I tried the same. This summer, in fact. I flew to D.C. to see if I'd completely misunderstood them. Underestimated them. In a way, I had, but… they're too different. Our values are too different. We had a huge fight about the stupidest thing after I'd been there for a month, so I flew back to grandpa's to stay there for the rest of my summer to heal and accept. I still talk to them, but rarely. It's complicated."

"Your grandpa sounds like a wonderful person."

"He is," she replied, smiling. "The most wonderful, I swear. Want to know a secret?" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I haven't officially graduated yet."

He frowned. "I thought you had to, to start with your Master's."

"You do," she said. "And I did. I wrote a thesis, got all my 124 credits, went to my graduation. My grandpa was there, too. I graduated s_umma cum laude_ with a Bachelor of Science in Chemistry, which is a really fancy way of saying I didn't have a life for four years. But they messed up my paperwork, and only this Saturday morning do I get the actual papers."

"But what papers did they give you on your graduation day?"

"Didn't have them."

"No."

"Yes," she replied, smiling. "I got an empty map. It's funny when I think about it now, but I was so angry with them for making me prove some of my credits and thesis-related stuff, because none of it was my fault."

"But how did you get into graduate school?"

"C'mon, now. They couldn't not take me because someone else messed up."

He leaned forward, resting elbows on his knees, looking at her, deep in thought. Bella imagined for a brief moment how he would look like without a beard, but then reconsidered. His beard was just long enough to make him look rough around the edges, but too short to hide his jaw line or age. It suited him.

"I find you intimidating," Edward admitted.

She laughed. "Why?"

"Because you—" He motioned at her, like that was supposed to tell her something. "You're smart, clearly, and…" He trailed off, flailing with his hands as he raised eyebrows at her, again, as if that was a universal signal for something. Sighing, he smiled shyly. "I'd never get into a college, much less a degree from one."

"Sure you would. You just haven't tried."

"No, I really wouldn't," he argued. "Not that I want to. I don't like doing things other people are doing in the way they're doing them and write and learn in the way other people do. With the same speed. I didn't like it when I had to go to school for a week and I don't like the idea now."

"Aren't you just making me feel super special about my education."

He made eye contact, a bit intense. "That's not what I meant."

"I know," she replied, smiling. "I understand, don't worry. I tease, sometimes. Get used to it."

Relieved, he leaned against the back of the couch.

"So, is Jasper your company's Captain?"

"Whitlock?" he asked. "He's usually at Station 42, though. I'm at 44. You know him?"

"You can say that, yeah," she replied, a bit relieved Edward wasn't getting too acquainted with him. "We share a mutual antipathy."

"Why?"

Sighing, Bella smoothed the edges of his sleeves before making eye contact and shrugging. For a brief moment, she considered telling him, but she'd rehashed Jasper's garbage with Rosalie and her grandpa too many times. She'd done nothing wrong and it was time to let go. "We have opinions and choices we disagree on. Intensely."

"That answers that question," Edward said, almost rolling his eyes, and the action was so uncharacteristic that Bella couldn't help but smile. He shifted, looking at her laptop. "Would you mind if we watched The Fellowship of the Ring today? Or I could borrow your DVD. Would that be okay?"

It was eleven o'clock, and Bella knew she had to get up at six the next morning, but as she couldn't resist spending more time with Edward, she agreed to see it. Merely the smile she received in return was worth her tired morning, so she turned off the lights, and curled up under her little blanket. Unlike Edward, she'd seen it at least twice and was asleep within twenty minutes, but Edward, fascinated and alert, covered Bella with another blanket and pulled her closer so that she could rest her head on his shoulder as he continued watching. He was warm next to Bella, and thought he'd close his eyes for a moment after the movie was over, but fell asleep instead.

At around 2:30 AM, the front door opened, and the sounds of two suitcases being rolled inside echoed in the house. Closing the door and squinting, Rosalie noticed that the door between two homes was left open.

"Twenty bucks that they're having sex," she whispered.

"You're on," Emmett replied, turning on the hallway lights. "Unless they've been brutally murdered in their sleep."

Sending his fiancée an unamused look, Rosalie hesitated and glanced at the darkness of Bella's side of the house.

"I think you should have a look."

"Why me?"

"Because I checked the hotel for spiders," she replied, shoving him forward. "Sometimes I think you bought your army clothes from ebay instead of serving three years in Iraq."

"No," he replied. "I'm just trying to make you feel less embarrassed about your fear by pretending to be scared."

"Keep telling yourself that," she said, stopping on the doorway as Emmett stepped forward. He gasped.

"Murdered," he said, deadpan.

"What?!"

"Gotcha." Emmett grinned. "Come here, they look disgustingly sweet. But I do believe both are wearing pants, so you owe me twenty bucks."

"Fine," she replied, stepping forward and looking at Edward holding Bella on the couch, legs on the coffee table and head leaned against hers. "Thanks for the heart attack."

"Anything for you, sweets," he whispered back, grabbing a pillow that he put behind Edward's head.

"What'd you do that for?" Rosalie asked.

"He'd have a hell of a stiff neck in the morning if I hadn't," he answered, voice louder now that they'd gone to their side of the house and closed the door. She heated water as he started to make sandwiches. "And why is my fear of spiders an object of mockery but I can't say a word about Bella's fear of dogs?"

"Because her father traumatized her with their Rottweiler. I bet you've never seen her legs. She doesn't even wear skirts without black pantyhose."

"I thought that was just, like, a propriety thing."

"No." She huffed, smiling. "Not at all. She's got nasty scars and she doesn't like them."

"But what happened? His father couldn't have set the dog on her."

"Maybe not, but he left her alone with his dog and, when his Rottweiler bit her, accused her of goading the dog on. It's pretty messed up from what I understand. I don't know the whole story, but I do know it happened more than once."

"And the guy is a U.S. Senator now? That's kind of fucked up."


	21. Day 9: It's the Small Steps

: :

The fireplace warms her toes as she starts waking up. Edward is no longer beside her under the blankets but crouching next to her feet, poking embers with a fire iron. His wound has stained the sheets and its edges have darkened. She watches his muscles as he moves, admiring his athleticism and observing the delicate skin beneath his bruise that has dried somewhat. She observes him as he sits on the mattress beside her feet, runs hands over his face, and sighs. It's a bit heart-breaking, and she wiggles her toes to tickle his hip. He looks up.

"You can talk to me, you know," she mutters, sitting up but holding blankets around her. Aware of how sleepy she must look (and maybe how many times she must've repeated this sentence to him), she slides one hand in his, pulls it in her lap and starts tracing lines on his calloused fingers. He closes them, trapping hers, and kisses her forehead, lingering. She revels in the gesture, nervous and hoping.

Yes, they'd been close before, but these little gestures as well as their intimacy were new.

"I know," he replies, quietly, eyes holding hers. "How did you sleep?"

"Very snuggly," she says, smiling. "I'm particularly taken with my first-class heater."

He looks down. "I'm sorry."

"Did I not say first class heater? Because I meant first class heater."

He smiles and starts to draw patterns on her hand with his thumb as they both gaze at the edge of the sky behind the mountains. It's light orange, a chilly tone rather than a warm one, and the snow-capped mountains seem dismal in comparison. It's around eight AM judging by the sky.

Looking away, Bella catches Edward staring at their joined hands. "Why do I have a feeling you're on the verge of saying something?"

"I am." He makes eye contact, embarrassed-looking. "No elephants. I just want to do it when we have the entire day for ourselves."

"Right," she replies. "It's just so unfortunate that my Friday is packed with pedicure appointments."

He laughs, motioning at the clean bandages as he turns. "Would you mind…?"

"Not at all," she says, curling legs beneath her as she cleans and binds his upper back. When she's done, she accidentally-on-purpose slips her feet on the carpet next to his, and so they sit in silence for a few moments, legs warmed by a fireplace, embers glowing in front of them and puppies wailing in the distance. Edward, once again, intertwines her fingers with his and starts touching her scars, slowly and deliberately. Bella waits, watching him with no intention of shying away.

"Will you ever tell me the story behind these?"

He trails lines along her scars, and without explaining, Bella turns her leg so that he's able to see the side of her thigh, right above the knee, the only place where you could separate a bite mark from the general scarring on her calves. His hand halts, and his eyes snap to hers before he starts observing the nature of her scars more deliberately. She complies to his barely-there touch, twisting and turning her legs in order to show him all of them. It had never been a conscious decision to keep their origin from Edward, but the more he couldn't understand her aversion of a man's best friend, the less she wanted to explain.

But they were on the verge of something, truth, love, or pain, perhaps all three, and maybe it was time to let go of some things in her past.

"Your dad's Rottweiler?" he asks, voice low and horrified.

"Most of it doesn't look like bite marks because he gnawed more than anything, tore away some skin, stuff like that."

Freaked by her calm attitude, he covers the clear bite mark with his entire palm. "You never… I've seen you on the verge of tears, refusing to leave the car at the sight of a Rottweiler, but you never said…"

"At first, dad thought he could make me get used to him by letting him sniff me. I was five, I think. But he had a telephone call and Lassie freaked me out, so I started running and…" She motions at the scar he's holding. "I know I shouldn't have run. I know. But I was only five, and I was already terrified, and he left me… He seemed regretful enough when I was bandaged and got a tetanus shot. I avoided Lassie like the plague. But in second grade, I was playing at home and accidentally drew all over dad's contracts, and as punishment, he—locked me in the back yard, with Lassie, and I… I didn't even move, but the dog, I don't know, smelled my fear, but at least I knew to lie on my stomach this time and cover my neck… in fifth grade, it—"

"Bella," Edward whispers, pulling her knees on his lap when he crushes her in a hug, tightly holding on to the back of her neck when he squeezes her close to him. "I'm so fucking sorry for teasing you."

"It's okay," she mutters, remembering how playful he'd been; perhaps she hadn't been scared because she trusted him, and she knew he'd never actually drop her. He'd never actually let her get hurt, at least not physically.

"But it's not. And I know you agreed to meet the dogs today, but you don't have to. Hell, I'll carry you for the rest of your life if you want."

Bella presses a kiss under his collar bone.

"How is your father not in jail for how he treated you? Was nobody curious as to what happened to your legs?"

"They were, but dad promised to punish me if I told anyone, so I learned to hide it. I don't even mind how my legs look anymore, but I'm used to not showing it. Some habits are hard to break."

Running fingers through her hair, Edward looks at the embers in the fireplace without actually seeing them. "Your grandpa… He caught on, didn't he?"

"It's the only time in my life I've seen him angry. He's so gentle, you know? But he went ballistic. He reported him to Child Protective Services, too, but dad has connections, so he—I don't know how to say it. He bought himself a clean reputation, in a way. But when I asked grandpa if I could fly off to Michigan after my last day in eighth grade, he scooped me up and hugged me and never said a word. Next thing I know, I had a ticket. Flew all by myself, too. I can never repay him."

"You could get your father kicked out of D.C. if you said a word."

"I know."

Edward holds her, fisting her curly hair and pressing her tightly against his chest. "You are a remarkable woman."

She squeezes him back, smiling but not saying anything as Edward continues to trail lines along her skin ever so gently. It's new, this kind of intimacy, and Bella lets herself enjoy it. She lets herself hope.

"You don't have to meet the dogs if it's too much," he repeats. "I'll carry you."

"From your luxury bathroom to the house and back again for ten days? What an adventurous holiday I'm about to have."

"I mean it," he says, pulling back to look in her eyes.

"I know you do." She pulls him in another hug, kissing his cheek. "But maybe it's time I met them. You only have to promise not to leave me alone with them. Not even as a joke. I won't get it, and I'll die of terror."

"I'd rather die."

She nudges him. "I'm serious."

He kisses the top of her head before getting up. "So am I," he replies, barely a whisper, as he starts getting dressed. He waits for her in the hallway; making sure Alice has her food and water, boiling water for tea on the porch with her Esbit cubes and putting the bag he'd prepared for their three-day adventure next to the door. She emerges, pulling on his old but warm coat, drowning in it, and sends him a smile when he takes her hand in his and squeezes it. All seven dogs are at the edge of the forest, surrounding gran, and they make Bella nervous.

"How badly do you need to pee?" he asks, eyes amused when she grimaces.

"On a scale from zero to ten? Maybe… a seven."

"Okay," he replies, smiling. "We can work with a seven."


	22. The Annual Adventure

: :

"Okay," he replies, stifling a smile. "Now, Alice is the friendliest of friendly dogs. I don't want you to go around thinking you should pet dogs who are giving birth because they actually _can_ bite. Alice is just old, and, I trust her. I've had her for a long time. But gran is an excellent dog trainer and none of our dogs have bitten anyone. Following me?"

"Yes."

"So. I think you should meet three of them today and the rest on Monday. Do you think you can stay still and hold on to me while they sniff you? I'll make sure they won't jump. Except maybe Jakey, but he's young and foolish and just about the most excitable dog in our state."

"Just don't leave my side," she says, taking a breath.

"I won't," he says, opening the front door. "Tell me if it's too much and I'll pick you up, alright?"

"Don't say that."

"Why not?"

"Because," she answers. "I don't need more reasons to want you to hold me."

Edward blinks, slowly, before offering a silly-looking smile and placing a kiss on her temple.

They step on the porch. Snow glistens in the rising sun, and they both admire it before Edward whistles. Just as all seven dogs start to run toward them, Edward yells, "Gran? Can you call back Billy, Manabozho, Blackfoot and Scratchy?"

Without questioning, gran calls them out in a voice and tone Bella is sure she's never heard before. It's not quite a whistle, not quite a yell, and when she's said the names in her peculiar tone, four dogs stop and turn around. A fluffy white one, a small, energetic dog with a white collar and grey back, and a large dog, skinny and reddish, all come running towards Edward like there's no tomorrow. Still standing on the porch, Bella takes a step back, hugging Edward's arm close to her. She watches, nervous out of her mind but fascinated, as the dogs follow every order Edward gives them so that only the white one walks up to them. Edward, still squeezing Bella's palm, steps forward and orders the dog to sit on top of the stairs.

Relieved and mildly surprised, Bella leans closer to Edward, whispering, "Are they all this obedient?"

"All except Jakey," he replies, and they both watch as the little one starts jumping in the snow. "I'm not kidding when I say gran trains them exceptionally well. I know people in Anchorage who'd pay twenty thousand for one of her dogs. Gran participates in dog sledding competitions, too, and I'm not sure she's lost a single one, but it's not about that for her. She's treats her dogs well, knows their strengths and weaknesses, they love and trust her in return. I don't know anyone nuts enough to go dog-sledding over such long distances. It's constant training. Quite incredible."

Smiling, Bella swallows. "So what's this one named?"

"Gandalf," he replies, and when Bella raises her eyebrows, amused, Edward gives her a sheepish smile, answering the question she does not voice. "Yes, I named him."

"Figures," she says.

"He's a Malamute. Very laid back."

He lets him sniff her, making sure she doesn't look too freaked out, but when Gandalf (The White) finishes sniffing her legs, he sits down in front of them, mouth opened and looking quite happy.

"That's it?" Bella asks, not quite sure if the dog was fooling around, ready to bite when she made the wrong move, but when Gandalf seemed to be begging to be caressed, Edward did just that. The dog closed his eyes, enjoying himself. Gandalf looked cute and affectionate, and it made Bella nervous to like him.

"Would you like to touch him?"

In the same way, he introduces her to Jakey, the young excitable dog who jumps a lot but appears too harmless to do any damage, and the last dog named Kangitiq, but Bella was going to call her Pillow (if given the chance), because apparently, that's what her name meant.

Just like that, Edward tells gran to call for her dogs, and they happily follow her voice. Not wanting Bella to be nervous at his home, Edward joins her in her morning quest to find the outdoor toilet so that she'd feel safer around so many dogs.

She's surprised not to feel anxious, having met the dogs, and finds herself smiling and joking along with Edward. He seems remarkably more at ease, knowing that, in time, she could learn to be okay with them. Neither of them brings it up, and maybe she hadn't immediately hugged them, but she'd been around them without being on the verge of tears. For her, that was huge, and he knew it.

After they've eaten their breakfast, buckwheat porridge with cheese and raisins, gran steps in the house. She's grinning mysteriously, looking at Edward, who immediately stands, returns her smile and envelops gran in a hug.

"Happy birthday," he says, producing a wooden pearl as Bella stares at them, feeling herself pale. Oblivious to her dilemma, gran smiles with her entire face, kissing Edward's cheeks as she entwines a few strands of hair in a braid and adds the little wooden pearl.

"Exactly what I wanted," gran says.

Bella jumps up to hug gran. "Happy birthday," she says, embarrassed, giving Edward the stink eye. "Edward didn't say—I'm so sorry for not having anything. I didn't know."

"I told him not to," gran replies, pulling back and holding on to both of her shoulders, smiling. "You would've gotten me something I hated and I would've had to go through the trouble of pretending to like it and I generally avoid pretending to like anything if I can help it."

"Uh, okay. Just one more hug," Bella says, pulling gran in another hug. "For raising this remarkable man."

Laughing, gran says something to Edward, something in Aleut, and shows him her tongue when he's replied. "I like you," she says to Bella. "Now, are you ready for an adventure?"

"Yes," Bella replies, having only a vague idea about spending three days in the mountains. "What's the occasion?"

Gran laughs, and Edward leans closer to Bella, whispering, "Her birthday."

Blushing, Bella smiles sheepishly, but gran shakes her head, chuckling and opening the front door. "We leave at ten AM from the porch."

When she closes the door, Bella nudges Edward, who, instead of shrugging her off, hugs her from the back, resting his head on her shoulder. "Are you mad at me for not telling you?"

"Surprisingly, no," she replies, finding it hard to feel indifferent with Edward being so affectionate. "Gran makes it hard to be mad at anyone."

"True," he replies, nudging their bag with his leg. "So, here's the deal. We have a camera, and she has a camera. Each animal we get on a picture gives us a point. We'll hike on either side of the valley, she's on the eastern side and we're on the western side. We'll spend the night in the mountains, and meet gran at noon tomorrow on the Rocky Slope. The one with most animals caught on camera wins."

"And you couldn't have told me this yesterday?"

"Gran likes it that way, and it's the only thing we've ever done for her birthday." He hesitates. "Unless you don't want to come? You don't have to. You can stay behind. We'll be back by Sunday evening."

"Will I be holding you back?"

"Hell no," he replies, pressing his cheek closer to her neck. "You don't have to come, but… I'd love to share this with you."

His tender voice warms her, and when she turns, he kisses her temple, hugging her the same way he hugged her in the morning; holding her neck, hands gripping her hair, pressing her tightly against him. She nearly bursts with affection. "Please come," he whispers.

"How can I say no with this level of blackmailing," she replies, returning his affections for good measure and tiptoeing to kiss his cheek. "I'll come. Just don't blame me if I'm not quite the Kajika you are."

His face lights up, and he's entirely too happy, gathering last-minute stuff and reminding her to bring her toothbrush, for it not to be contagious. He makes sure that the living room door is shut, that Alice has food and water, that they have a radio transmitter with them and that gran's dogs will be okay. Ten minutes before leaving, they're on the porch, arguing over who gets to carry his bag when gran joins them. Her eyes are filled with mirth, watching his grandson and Bella, making a few comments in Aleut that seem to embarrass Edward.

Together, they start walking towards Edward's plane, bypass it, and just as they're about to go their separate ways, Bella asks, "Gran, what does 'ting umchuda' mean?"

Edward's step falters when he makes eye contact with gran who eyes him with no little amusement. "He said that?"

"Gran," Edward warns. "Please."

She grins, leaning closer. "Ask him to demonstrate," gran whispers, turning left, snickering when she sees Edward blush. Her step is remarkably light, and soon, they lose sight of her.

"So," Edward asks, nervous-looking. "Did she tell you?"


	23. In Reverse

: :

Alder shrubs, somewhat impenetrable and covered by clusters of tiny green cones, become more frequent as their trail curves around the mountain, losing altitude. The coniferous forest that had surrounded them is sparser on the other side, and the clearings show a view so incredible Bella pulls on Edward's sleeve to stop him. Grinning, she admires the rocky mountainsides, some covered by lichens, a distant, unfrozen river, solitary quacking aspens and a semi-frozen lake at the bottom of the valley, all surrounded by snow-capped mountains. She'd been able to admire the scenery all seven days it took for them to hike from Mike's cabin to Edward's home, but it never ceased to take her breath away.

She turns just in time to see Edward take a picture of her, and, grimacing, she covers his lens with her mitten and lowers his camera. "I don't see a tail growing out of my butt."

Grinning cheekily behind his scarf, he steps around her and gasps, observing her backside. "Would you look at that!"

"Oh, shut up," she replies, but she can't help but smile at his silliness. They continue to walk, side by side. Edward holds an expensive-looking camera she'd never seen before, but a couple of years ago, she'd seen breath-taking pictures he'd taken for National Geographic, so she isn't all that surprised he owned one. Bella keeps quiet, admiring Edward's ability to notice animals without the binoculars she was holding. Before noon, they see birds, mostly. A lonely gold eagle, an arctic loon, and two blue-winged teals, who, according to Edward, are heading to the wetlands in the northeast. They catch a powerful-looking osprey by surprise, and Edward gets an incredible picture of its spread wings.

He climbs a lonely spruce as they continue, and points out two dall's sheep on top of a much higher mountain when he gets down. Edward is quick to notice smaller, unnoticeable animals: a lonely marten, minks swimming in the lake, several hares on the other side of the valley. None of them are out in the open, but Edward, however he does it, seems to be experienced in finding them. Animals are tougher to find after a bush plane flies over the valley after noon, so they sit on a trunk and warm leftovers of their hare stew with her Esbit cubes.

"You're awfully quiet today," he says, eyeing her as he puts the warm, metallic bowl in her lap. They both eat from it.

"I don't want to be a bother," she admits, almost shyly.

He turns, straddling the trunk and encasing her jaw to make her look at him. His knitted mittens tickle her skin, and when she looks up, he's smiling, eyes soft when he pulls down his scarf and leans down to kiss her cheek. His breath is warm.

"Be yourself," he says, eyeing her. "Don't feel guilty for not being like me. Because I don't want to spend time with another me. I want to spend time with you."

"But I'm not good at this stuff," she replies. "You know I'm not. I can't separate dots that are rocks and dots that are animals from miles away with my bare eye. I can't hunt. I can't tell moose's tracks from those of wild boar's."

"There are no wild boars here," he replies.

"See? I don't even know this stuff. I'm useless."

Edward shifts closer to her, and puts away the bowl on her lap to take her hand. "Hey, where's this coming from? Do you like it here?"

Huffing, watching vapor leave her scarf, she motions at the scenery before them with her free arm. She can't help but smile.

"Life isn't measured by the game you're able to hunt. I love having you here, and I want you to enjoy spending time with me, too. Just be yourself."

"But I'll talk and be curious and scare away the animals you want to photograph."

"I've won this competition for the last five years," he replies. "I couldn't care less. I have external hard drives filled with photographs. In fact," he bites off his mittens, puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles so loudly Bella has to cover her ears. Half a dozen northern shrikes fly away from nearby shrubs, but Edward doesn't reach for his camera. Pulling his mittens back on, he smiles sheepishly. "Now who scared away all the animals."

Staring at him, Bella shifts. "But, I mean… why?"

"Talk to me," he says, gently, puts both legs back next to hers, pulls her against him, and lowers his head to see her eyes. "I want to spend time with you."

She makes eye contact. "I can't believe we're not having this conversation in reverse."

He grins, and after they've eaten lunch, repacked her aluminum folding stand and Esbit cubes, he offers his camera for Bella to use and carry. She carefully ties its strap around her wrist before Edward casually takes her hand in his. He doesn't even look at her as he does it, but there are no wolves or dogs to be seen, so the gesture warms her heart.

"For two such close friends we sure have gaps in our knowledge about each other," he says, and Bella stares at him because it is incredible, so different and unusual to hear Edward say any of what he just said. Wide-eyed, Bella makes eye contact with him, and he looks shy, happy and nervous, squeezing her hand. Wild hope flares in her chest.


	24. So Much to Say

: :

The mountainside descends to their left as they continue to walk on lichen-covered clearings, finding a silvery Arctic ground squirrel, who, according to Edward, had to be an early male (females, apparently, hibernate until late April to early May). Edward hovers behind Bella, encouraging her to take pictures, but after hers are out of focus, he holds the camera, arms around her and resting head on her shoulder as he helps her focus the lens. He doesn't move when she takes the picture and turns her head to look at him. He's close.

"Thank you," she whispers, so as not to disturb the squirrel not too far from them on the side of a hill. Edward kisses her cheek, saying nothing as he takes her hand again. They continue to walk.

"So what happened with Tyler?"

She stares at him as he observes the river in the distance. "We had… different priorities, I guess."

"I'm sorry," he says, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"You are so not sorry," she replies, stifling a smile. "You hated the poor bloke. You thought he was rich and pretentious and accused him of wanting to change me."

"Fine," he agrees, that old playfulness in his tone. "In my defense, he was rich and pretentious and wanted to change you."

"What's wrong with wanting to change me? I have flaws. Everyone wants to change everyone around them."

Edward looks at their joined hands. "I wouldn't change a thing about you."

Smiling, Bella pulls him in a brief hug.

"Why did you go out with him anyway?"

"He asked me."

"That's it?"

"Guys don't just ask me out, Edward," she says, making air-quotes. "I'm 'marriage material'."

"I never understood why that bothered you."

"Are you kidding me? It's awful. Am I supposed to sit around until I'm thirty five and some guy somewhere who is remotely my age feels ready for marriage? I want to be someone to _be with_, marriage or not. I hate prejudices like that. Maybe I would've made a perfect fuck buddy, but because guys always saw me as someone to be serious with, I never had the chance."

"The perfect _what_?" he asks, and for the first time in months, Bella is reminded by the fact he's not familiar with all society's peculiarities.

"You know." She shrugs, mildly embarrassed. "Someone to have sex with for fun."

"That's what you're looking for?" he asks, voice low and face unreadable.

"No," she says, chuckling as she squeezes his hand. "I'm just saying how limited our lives can be just because we're seen a certain way. Maybe some hot-looking girl out there is super-eager to have a family, but guys never see them as someone to be serious with. It works both ways. It's hard to see the interior if you're so ready to make assumptions based on the exterior."

He observes her face, closely. "So… what are you looking for?"

"Someone to love me," Bella replies simply, not meeting his eyes. Feeling awkward, like she's said too much, she clears her throat. She feels Edward's eyes on her as she takes a fuzzy picture of three ptarmigans flying over their heads. The sky is clear blue, and in some places, the sun has warmed soil enough for them to jump over little streams of water.

"Tyler doesn't sound like the kind of guy you'd go for."

"I know," she replies. "I don't usually go for guys who actually like me back. So that was new."

Taking a breath, Edward steps in front of her, lowering the camera in her hand. His eyes are intense. "Bella, I—"

"Don't," she answers, fiddling with a button on his coat before raising her eyes to meet his. "Not here, not now. We should talk, but you're right—we should do it alone, at your place. If you don't like what I've got to say, you should have space, and vice versa. If things go awry, I don't want to be left here alone."

"I would never," he replies, leaning down so that not their foreheads but hats are touching. He takes one of her hands in his, rubbing it, eyes never leaving hers. The vapor from their breaths mixes as he pulls down her scarf and cups her jaw. "I have so much to say, Bella," he whispers. "So much to apologize for."

His voice is filled with passion, desperate and pained, as his eyes linger on hers, searching. His cheeks are pink, the ends of his hair peek out from under his hat, and their height difference is quite remarkable. He's never felt more handsome to her, so rough around the edges but vulnerable, so she throws her arms around his neck. He lifts her, smiling, smelling her scarf and holding her in the air.

"I have a lot to say, too," she mutters, and Edward keeps holding her for a few minutes before putting her down, taking her face in his mitten-clad hands and observing it. For a brief, wonderful moment, it seems he's about to kiss her, but he simply pulls her hat back to kiss her forehead. He lingers.

"We should get going or gran will think we let her win," he says, not moving.

"You're right," she replies, not moving either. It feels wonderful to witness this affectionate, vulnerable side of Edward, and, afraid that it's temporary, she doesn't want to let go of the moment too easily. But when Edward steps away, there's so much affection in his smile as he takes her hand, her doubts fade, if only a little.

"Sunday evening," he says, gauging her reaction. "After we're back, we'll talk. Does that work for you?"

"Sunday evening it is."


	25. How Do Quill Pigs Mate?

: :

Edward spearfishes kokanee salmon on a riverside covered by sharp-edged pebbles. Bella stands by him, grimacing when he takes off his shoes and rolls up his pants to walk in water barely forty degrees Fahrenheit. She stifles the urge to ask if he's not afraid of catching a cold when he puts his shoes back on, knowing he would either smile or roll his eyes.

They continue hiking with two kokanee salmon in a plastic bag.

They find a couple of bare larches in black spruce forest clearings, but overall, trees are sparse and emaciated where the wind is strong and soil scarce. The sky remains clear as ever, but as the wind picks up again, the sun no longer feels warm.

Edward continues to teach Bella how to focus the lens, but it takes time because taking pictures is not easy with a camera as fancy as his and so many aspects to consider. He takes it back from time to time, taking pictures as they take breaks and climb hills, and starts guiding her to a place more secluded from wind to eat supper.

"Do you think we'll see any wolves before tomorrow noon?" Bella asks, walking next to him even as the snow reaches above her boots.

"I didn't know you had a spare pair of pants with you."

Bella nudges him with her whole body, but he's too strong to be affected by it, so he's the one who has to hold her up after she nearly loses balance. She eyes him, all wide-shouldered and athletic, but averts her eyes when he raises eyebrows at her staring.

"What?" he asks. She stops him and pulls down her scarf to kiss his cheek. He's grinning when they continue walking, hand in hand. "Why the sudden interest in seeing wolves?"

"I figured, if we could catch a pack of them, we could get more points for one picture."

"Is that why you kept taking pictures of migrating sandhill cranes?" He snickers, shaking his head. "Each species, not an animal, gets a point."

She blinks. "But you said each animal!"

"Doesn't matter," he replies, pulling her to him and laughing when she fakes a sob. He puts his arms on her shoulders so that his arms surround her. Not quite hugging, but close.

"I'm sorry," she says, a little miffed. "I only wanted to make it up to you."

"Make what up to me?" he asks, resting his chin on her head and holding her close. "Losing a competition? I told you. I don't care." He pulls back a little, squeezing her to him as he whispers in her ear, quickly, in Aleut. It might be a few sentences or a single, enormous word, Bella isn't sure, but it sounds like Elvish and it sounds precious. He keeps holding her after he's done speaking, wind blowing against their faces, prickling, and when he leans away to see hers, she's sure she's reborn again in his gaze, that's how precious he makes her feel.

Afraid of jumping on him to kiss him, she asks, "Did you say something about horny toads again?"

He laughs, and it could be the cold, but he seems embarrassed enough for the hue in his cheeks to be a blush.

"I speak English, you know," she says casually. "Just a thought."

For the next few hours, they find birds who are common, mostly; waterfowls, a black-billed magpie, American wigeons and a horned lark, but they also get a picture of a northern goshawk sitting on a balsam poplar with its striking red eyes. Edward keeps finding reasons to stay close to Bella, taking off his scarf and wrapping it around hers to keep her from cold, holding her hand, standing close with arms around her as they take pictures together. Bella revels in it. It feels unreal but amazing.

Around half to six PM they make it to a clearing covered by rocks and lichen, surrounded by a curved ninety-degree mountainside and spruces behind them, protecting them from wind. They cook salmon before sitting on top of their bag, admiring the view. Without wind, Bella can feel sun's warmth and takes off both of her scarves, but Edward, naturally, had taken off not only his mittens and hat but coat as well. He sits beside her in his woolen sweater that is white and high-necked and emphasizes his shoulders. His gaze is sharp as he observes the mountains in front of them, appearing to check traces and tracks of animals in a way Bella could only dream of. Stronger than ever, Bella feels just how much he belongs here.

"I thought you said your closest neighbor is about a hundred miles away," Bella says, noticing a wooden house across the lake in the distance. It had been hidden by the forest so far, and Bella couldn't believe they'd walked all this distance.

"I did," he replies. "That's the library my great-grandfather built. Didn't I tell you?"

"You did! You mentioned it, I remember now. Can we go there when we get back?"

"We'll go back from the other side," he says. "But we can go there on Monday, if you'd like."

Looking at his twinkling eyes, Bella smiles, knowing they might finally—hopefully—be on the same page by then.

It takes them two and a half hours to get to the field where they spend the night. The sun has just set, leaving behind a pastel-colored sky and low temperatures as they eat nuts and raisins, and put up a tent.

When Bella goes to pee behind a spruce, her eyes are fixed on a big, oddly-shaped bird sitting on top of a birch. Feeling a little spooked by how strangely the animal moves, she rushes back to the tent, eyes wide and panting.

"Are there lynxes here?"

"Of course," Edward answers calmly, taking his camera as Bella grabs on to his forearm, standing as close to him as possible as she shows him the strange animal. It's nearly dark, and even as they don't go near it, Edward searches for the animal's tracks on patches of snow. He moves quietly, with Bella shuffling behind him, feeling spooked and useless. Finding the tracks, Edward chuckles, adjusting the setting on his camera to take a picture in the dark.

"Quill pig," he says, smiling and putting an arm around Bella's waist as they both observe the tree.

"A what?" she whispers.

"Quill pig. You know, porcupine? They come out during the night. Harmless, unless you're a female quill pig next to a male who intends to have sex with you."

They walk back to the tent, and if usually their sleeping bags lie on either side of the tent, this time, they're next to each other with their bag in the corner next to Bella's coat (to be used as a pillow). Edward rubs his neck, a bit embarrassed, observing her reaction.

"Is this okay?" he asks, sitting cross-legged on top of his sleeping bag. "I won't try anything, I promise. It's just that, tonight will be cold."

His shyness is sweet, and even though it's close to nine PM and they could search for nocturnal animals, Bella takes care of Edward's bruised back before they slip in their sleeping bags, fully clothed, facing each other in the dark. Edward's hands find hers, and he starts touching her fingers, gently, drawing patterns and surrounding both of her hands with his. She hums, starting to see his eyes and lips in the dim light. If he could make her feel this precious just by warming her hands, she couldn't imagine what it would be like if one of them finally made a move.

"How do porcupines have sex, anyway, with all their quills?" she asks.

"Carefully," he replies, equally quietly, and she can see his bright smile as she laughs.

"So why wouldn't I want to be a female quill?"

"Because the male pees on the female before they have sex."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"And I thought my first time was awkward," Bella says. "Why do they do it?"

"I'm not sure, exactly. But I know she's only ready to mate ten hours a year."

"Ten _hours_ a year?" she whispers. "Damn. No wonder he pees on her. Imagine all that pent up frustration."

Edward laughs, holding Bella's hands as they talk into wee hours of the night, lying so close that their knees and elbows are touching. He puts on his woolen socks after Bella has fallen asleep, making sure that her coat is folded enough to be comfortable and that her hands are warm. He kisses her cheek, lingering before resting their hands between their heads. He listens to her breathing before falling asleep half an hour later.


	26. Day 10: Aurora Borealis

: :

"Bella," Edward whispers, caressing her hair. "Wake up. I want to show you something."

She takes his hand and puts it under her head. Edward leans closer, smiling. "Seriously, you won't want to miss this."

Groggy, she opens her eyes and squeezes his hand, the hand she now realizes is not a pillow. "But your hand is so comfy."

"You can have my hand anytime," he says, and when Bella doesn't notice what he said, he sighs in relief. "There's a pack of wolves surrounding us. You have one minute to get dressed."

Bella jumps up, throws on all her sweaters and wraps two scarves around her neck. Squeezing his mitten-clad hand, she eyes him, pale but determined. "What do you need me to do?"

Edward grins. "Admirable. Less than half a minute."

"You insufferable man," she replies, nudging him. "Do you want me to have a heart attack?"

"No," he says, voice tender. "But I did get your attention, didn't I?"

"There better be some step-dancing squirrels outside or I'll be very—" She steps outside. "Holy shit."

Bella walks away from their tent, head thrown back and a massive smile on her face. Sleep forgotten, she starts circling around herself, taking in the bright green light display with a red edge. Stars are bright, but the northern lights are brighter.

"This is the most amazing thing I've ever seen," she mutters as if talking louder would scare them away. Hands in his pockets, Edward returns her smile, and eyes her; her happiness is contagious, and even though he's seen the northern lights more times than he can count, there's something special about watching it with Bella who's never seen them before.

Grinning, she keeps circling, head thrown back until she's dizzy with awe. She steps in front of Edward, pressing her hands against his bearded cheeks, eyes bright and smile wide. "How can you not be overwhelmed by beauty? How can you not want to breathe this in? Please tell me that, inside, you're mad with admiration."

In his wordless manner, Edward takes her hands from his face but doesn't let go as he steps behind her, making her face the mountains, the stars, and the incredible light display. He wraps arms around her shoulders, pulling her to him and resting his chin on top of her head. There's a smile in his voice as he leans down and whispers ever so gently, "But I am."

The vapor of his breath warms her face, and not for the first time, she feels like she could burst with affection. She's tempted to turn around to kiss him, properly, and end their friendship, but his arms are holding her too tightly, his voice too tender for her to risk it again so soon.

"They're moving!" she whispers, excitement in her voice as she observes the green rays flash brighter in some places but fade in others. She turns her head, looking up. "Did you know they _moved_?"

"Mhmm," he answers, and she can feel his hum more than hear it. Neither moves for a long time as they eye the northern lights change color and brightness, but when Bella shivers, Edward starts rubbing her arms. "Cold?"

"Mmm," she answers, turning around. "Can we bring our sleeping bags and spend the night outside?"

She's all bright eyes and wide smile, and when Edward nods, she tiptoes, kissing his cheek. "Awesome!"

After dragging their sleeping bags and thin, rollable mats outside, the edge of one covering the other's, they slip in their sleeping bags, fully-clothed, wearing hats, mittens and scarves. Edward drags their bag out of their tent and puts it next to his head. Bella no longer has anything to rest her head on, but that means little after Edward spreads out his arm and invites her to cuddle against his shoulder. She feels a bit like a worm, but her pricey sleeping bag does what it had promised and keeps her warm. Nestling against his shoulder, her eyelashes start to frost, so she pulls her hat down and scarf up. It's quiet, incredibly so. She watches the northern lights as they redden further at the edges.

"Are you cold?" she whispers, turning her whole body when she wants to see Edward's face, and even though only his eyes are out, she knows he's smiling.

"No," he whispers, like they have a mutual agreement not to disturb the nature. He pulls her closer to him. "You?"

"Nope," she replies. She admires the light display for as long as she can keep her eyes open.

Northern lights have faded when she wakes up again, but the stars are bright, and the Milky Way is clearer than she's ever seen. It's silent, not a breeze in the air, yet a thud startles her. Not daring to move, she watches the vapor of her breath, listening to her heartbeat before she hears several consecutive thuds and a grunt-like sound. Someone sniffs, loudly, and the footsteps that follow carry weight.

A few minutes of shuffling later, an animal sniffs their feet, stepping closer. A head covers the stars, a body, and as Bella stares at it, her heart-beat picks up. A bear cub stares back at her, resting on its four legs, unmoving. Frozen in her place, Bella wishes that her breath wouldn't create vapor, that her heart-beat didn't make a sound, that she wasn't warmer than the environment, or smelled like human.

But she's all of those things, and all she can do is stare, unblinking, listening as the mother bear's footsteps come closer. In the corner of her eye, she can see her sit and pick up their bag, tearing it apart in her search for food. Something hits the ground and breaks, maybe their camera, but, still not daring to blink, Bella desperately wishes for the bear to take whatever she wants and leave them unharmed.

Having found a pack of chocolate candy, the bear gets up, sniffing the wrappers. The cub joins her, jumping over them, and just as Bella hopes they're leaving, the two bears face them, heads lowered, sniffing the air. Petrified, Bella stares, wishing that waking Edward up was an option.

She pales as the mother stands on its back feet, enormous-looking and terrifying, staring at them. Bella holds her breath as, for whatever reason, a stick-shaped gap prevents her from seeing the stars, and she realizes that Edward is not sleeping.

He's holding a gun.

He's holding a loaded gun to the mother bear's head, and Bella knows that killing the bear is the last thing Edward wants to do. So she stares, Edward stares, and the bears stare back. A couple of birds make sounds in the distance, but it seems so far, so impossibly far from them. A minute passes, or it could be an hour, as nobody moves, until finally, the mother bear turns away her head and starts marching toward the forest.

Bear cub follows her, and Bella clings to Edward, pushing up her hat, pulling down her scarf, shifting so close to Edward she might as well lie on top of him.

"You alright?" Edward asks, putting down his gun, facing Bella and hugging her, horizontally. Bella blinks, twice, feeling his warm breath on her cheek, and suddenly, a hysterical giggle escapes her.

"Fabulous," she whispers, feeling the adrenaline rush, exhaling. "Would you really have killed her?"

"I hoped I wouldn't have to," he replies. "So thanks for being so calm. You always remember your first meeting with a grizzly."


	27. Cold Morning

: :

Bella wakes up, shivering against Edward. Damp clothes cling against skin above her waist, and only her feet are dry, but attempting to move wakes Edward up. A single look in Bella's direction, and he's sitting, helping her up.

"I forgot to remind you," he says, ushering her to the tent and bringing their broken bag with him. Teeth chattering, Bella watches as Edward throws her dry clothes out of their bag before unfolding one of his large, woolen sweaters. "Change everything," he says. "Pull this on top of your sweaters, okay? Here, take my spare mittens."

"Edward—"

"Please," he mutters, grazing her cheek with his mitten. "For me."

Having changed into layers of dry clothes (some torn, some dirty, and some both) but still chilled to the bone, Bella steps out of the tent. It's a cool morning, and the sun is up but behind a mountain that creates a shadow on them. Stepping closer to Edward, she pulls back his sleeve to see it's over nine AM, and he stops laying their stuff on the ground to rub her arms.

"Better?"

"Much." She smiles, teeth still chattering. "Is your camera—okay?"

He nods. "But the casing is not."

Jumping, stretching and acting all kinds of silly to get warm, Bella helps Edward pack up their tent and put stuff in their broken bag. Their sleeping bags no longer fit into it, so Bella carries them as Edward gets their strapped-up and half-empty backpack. Bear tracks cover patches of snow toward the lake, but it feels light years away as Edward holds Bella to him, hugging and trying to share warmth. She clings to him, feeling slightly warmer, especially when Edward pulls back his head and tucks a stray strand of hair in her scarf. "I've never seen bears on this side of the valley," he says, voice apologetic. "Neither has gran. She won't believe us when we tell her, not unless…"

Trailing off, he removes his hands from around Bella, for long enough to take a picture of bear tracks with the scenery, but wraps her up in his arms a moment later. "Are you alright?" he whispers, squeezing her.

"Absolutely," she replies into his coat. "Just cold."

"I should've reminded you to change," he says, lowering his head to touch her hat-covered forehead. "I'm so sorry for putting your life in danger like this. I just got—distracted, I guess." He avoids eye contact, looking embarrassed.

"By what?" she asks. "By how amazing I am? I can see how that could be a problem."

He lets out a half-chuckle, half-groan, pulling down her scarf and encasing her jaw before kissing her cheek. His eyes lock with hers, and she's covered by goose bumps that have nothing to do with feeling cold. Of course, she'd seen him put their food on top of a tree each night as they hiked to his place, but she forgot last night. And, apparently, so had he. Or maybe he never did it on this side of the valley, having never met a bear here.

"Not your fault," she replies, taking his hand. "I forgot, too. Let's walk before I freeze."

Sharing five candies and a bag of raisins for breakfast, they continue their journey through forests and over mountains, stopping to admire the view and take pictures of orange-crowned warblers, Wilson's snipes, two beautiful varied thrushes and a single, unnoticeable Swainson's thrush. Birds seem abundant this morning but animals are nowhere to be seen.

To help Bella get warm, they jog for quite a while. Edward keeps rubbing her arms, offering his coat on multiple occasions, and even though she declines, moving helps her get warm again.

"You didn't take your medicine today," Bella says, watching the migrating sandhill cranes she'd seen the day before.

"Don't need them anymore," he replies, smiling shyly. "I didn't—" He clears throat. "I had no symptoms, anyway, just the, ah, bacteria."

Stifling a smile, Bella squeezes his hand.


	28. Day 11: Déjà vu

: :

Half an hour after noon, as they round a corner before a clearing, Bella catches sight of gran, sitting on top of a tree, eating what appear to be dried apricots as she waves at them. She climbs down with ease, lands softly, and walks over to them. Her eyes are twinkling as she watches them hold hands, but she doesn't comment as she hugs them.

"You're late," she says, sounding amused. "I made lunch."

Gran has fried eggs of unknown origin (to Bella), and they sit around the small fire she made, eating in silence until gran, staring at their torn bag, asks, "What happened?"

"Grizzly," Edward says, not meeting her eyes.

Gran raises her eyebrows. "You didn't hang your food on a tree?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I forgot," Edward says, a tinge of pink covering his cheeks.

"You _forgot_? You _never_ forget."

"It was on the Silent Slope," Edward explains.

Gran leans forward. "You saw a grizzly on the Silent Slope?"

"Two, actually," Edward answers, taking out his camera to show her pictures. Skeptically, gran frowns, but zooming in on the pictures, she's forced to agree.

"They're out early this year," she says, continuing to eat before she stops to eye Edward. "Sleeping on the Silent Slope in no reason not to hang your food on a tree. You must _never_ forget."

"I know," Edward says, silently.

"Why did you?"

"It was my fault, too," Bella starts, not wanting Edward to take all blame. "I forgot, too."

Ignoring Bella, gran observes Edward's face until he gets uncomfortable and says a few words in Aleut. Gran's eyes immediately snap on Bella, and gran laughs, patting Edward's back. "Qaǵaxtaq," gran says, grinning. "Makes us all go stupid."

Edward blushes, not meeting anyone's eyes.

Having finished eating, Bella rewraps her scarf so that the frozen, front part is behind her neck. They make sure that no garbage is left behind and start to hike downhill, heading towards a valley none of them had passed through. Gran is on Bella's left and Edward, who had taken her hand again, on her right.

"So, qaǵaxtaq," Bella says, pronouncing it awkwardly. "Means what, exactly?"

Gran and Edward lock eyes before both look away; gran is grinning and her eyes twinkling, but Edward seems embarrassed, looking at his feet and blushing.

Gran starts jogging backwards, facing them as her long, straight hair blows in the wind before she tucks it under her coat. "It means—"

"Gran," Edward warns.

Gran smiles, looking at their joined hands before shaking her head, laughing, saying something in Aleut Bella can't understand.

"Is it good?" Bella asks.

"Gran," Edward warns again, quiet but insistent. "Please."

Gran nods, sharply, and, still smiling, turns around and starts running downhill, arms stretched, jumping over some rocks with light steps despite her backpack. Staring after her, Bella is once again reminded by what a big part of aging is in our heads. She finds herself wishing to be like gran when she's older.

"I should've never told you it's okay to speak Aleut around me," Bella says, smiling at the sight of gran far ahead of them. "Now you have a secret language and I understand none of it."

Squeezing her hand, Edward stops Bella, just for a moment. Saying nothing, he envelops her in a hug, cradling the back of her head and resting his chin on top of her head. He stays like that for a minute or two, not moving, before brushing a mitten-clad finger over her nose, a smile in his eyes.

"Soon," he says, pulling back her hat to kiss her forehead before taking her hand, explaining nothing else. She watches their joined hands, feeling his lips on her forehead long after they started walking again. During their next stop, gran asks to see the pictures they'd taken, and when they sit side by side to have a look at them and count the animals, Bella, just like gran, discovers that nearly every second picture is of her. Her laughing, her smiling, her sitting behind a rock, looking at an animal. There's so much of her, and she's never seen herself look so happy.

"A rare creature," gran says, smiling, eyeing Edward before she continues to skip photos of Bella to count the animals they'd caught on pictures, but Bella makes eye contact with Edward and holds his gaze. A blush covers his cheeks, and he breaks eye contact, but Bella pulls his hand on her lap. He looks unsure until Bella smiles brightly, brushing over his frown with her mitten.

Gran counts forty two animals before getting up and hugging both. "Congratulations," she says, picks up her backpack, grins, and starts jogging ahead of them.

"What about your pictures?" Edward yells.

"I left my camera at home!" gran shouts back, jogging backwards. "You really think I would've let you let me win?" Her laughter echoes in the valley as she twirls around. "Never!"

"Your gran is amazing," Bella says after they start walking after her. "Odd, but amazing."

They carefully hang their food on top of a tree in the evening, and Bella is quite content to sleep in a tent—not that it offers much protection—after the previous night's adventures. The evening is quiet, crisp and foggy. Gran refuses to sleep in their tent, saying something in Aleut that, again, embarrasses Edward, who seems to argue a little. Edward, who'd been content to listen to Bella and gran most of the way, offering few words in return, continues with his pattern to say little, so as they start falling asleep, Bella faces him, observing his face.

"Good silence or bad silence?"

"Mmm," he replies, squeezing her hands as they lay between them like on the previous night. "Just unsure about some things."

Feeling like this might have something to do with her, Bella closes her eyes, pushing back the hurt. With their talk tomorrow evening, she knows his hesitation is likely to involve her. Maybe he'd changed his mind, if he'd ever felt anything for her. Maybe he felt she didn't belong, despite everything.

But she rarely let her insecurities drive her actions, and so she simply blinks, feeling his breath on her face.

"Anything I can help you with?"

He pulls her hands next to his face, brushing his lips over her knuckles. "Be yourself," he says, smiling shyly. A few minutes later, he falls asleep, and she follows.

The next day is filled with a strange combination of laughter and tension. Bella finds herself distracted and eager for the evening to arrive as they observe animals in the distance. Just like the previous day, gran either jogs ahead of them, waiting for them on top of trees, or falls behind. Bella doesn't ask for the reason, feeling it might have something to do with wanting to give them privacy.

It's around six PM, still foggy, when they reach the lake that leads home. Pointing in the distance, gran explains that there are exactly three places where springs prevent ice from carrying them—one in the distance, a place Bella recognizes could be where Edward fell through, one directly to their left and one in front of the bay that leads to their house. Edward holds out his arm to help her climb the steep shoreline. She takes it, smiling to herself when gran runs ahead of them, hugging the dogs that run out to greet her.

Edward tugs at her arm, preventing her from following, and when she frowns, looking back, Edward backs her up against a tree and lets go of her hand to rest both of his hands on her waist. The urgency, so uncharacteristic of Edward, makes her shiver. She's nervous and excited, raising eyes to meet his.

"Are you alright?" she asks, lifting her chin out of her scarf. Edward squeezes her like she's made out of clay, soft and pliant, and so she wraps her arms around his waist in return, heart in her throat.

"I just—" Edward whispers, taking off his mitten before cupping her jaw with his bare hand, brushing his warm thumb over her lips. "I just…" His eyes flicker from her one eye to the other, like he's trying to memorize her, and when he sighs, his breath warms her nose. "Dinner, and then we'll talk, yeah?"

"Mhmm," she whispers, breathless from seeing Edward, the epitome of calm and collected, lose control like that. The tension is gone from his shoulders when he steps back, looking mildly embarrassed as he takes her hand, but they've taken barely five steps before she's pressed against a tree again, and both mittens are gone from his hands as he cups her jaw, tilting her head up and lowering his own, brushing his lips against hers, or maybe it's Bella who closes the gap between them. His face is prickly and skin cold. Bella tears off her own mittens to touch his face, making sure he's real as he kisses her like he means it, holding tighter and pressing stronger to feel every inch of her. Breathless, he pulls back just a little, resting his forehead against hers, the vapor of their breaths mixing.

He grazes her cheek with his fingertip. "Bella, I…"

"Edward?"

A young, female voice calls out, making Edward blink. Realizing what he's doing, he pales, stepping back, rubbing his open mouth, looking quite terrified. At the blink of an eye, the fear on his face is replaced by regret, and, keeping his palm over his mouth, he avoids eye contact. "Fuck," he says, voice pained. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

To what? To want her? To kiss her?

Blinking rapidly, Bella presses her lips so tightly together the pink disappears. "It's okay," she whispers, so quietly she can barely hear her voice herself. He'd rejected her before, not quite under these circumstances, not after kissing her, but he'd done it, and she'd survived. She just had to keep herself together in front of him so that, maybe, he wouldn't know how deep he could cut.

"Edward! Gran said you'd be outside! Are you here?"

"Bella, I—"

"Let's… let's not do this, please," Bella whispers, avoiding his eyes. "I'll just—maybe gran will help me make a fire to have a shower, so you can just… go, and, I'm just sorry. I didn't mean to attack you like that."


	29. Push and Pull

**A/N:** I return with something better than apologies. I return with updates.

: :

Edward's face hardens, and she nearly falls into him when he tugs at her wrist to make her look at him. He takes her hand in both of his, holding it between their chests, and steps so close their knuckles have no room to move. His head drops.

"Don't try to let me down easy," he whispers. His breath warms her face, but as his eyes search hers, he halts, and there's hurt in his voice. "Unless you don't…" He runs a hand over his face, sighing as he steps back and lets go of her. "Let me get my shit together, even if you don't…"

"Full sentences," Bella says, but her teasing feels hollow. "I prefer them."

His gaze lingers on her face even when Bella's attention is caught by the young woman who rounds the corner. She's lean, leggy, and she's wearing faded jeans and a fur collar. Warming hands in her pockets, Bella turns away her eyes when the woman falls in Edward's arms. He's awkward-looking, pulling back, and he pockets his hands, too.

"Angela, this is Bella, my, uh. My friend from Michigan. Bella, this is Angela. Mike's sister."

"We go _way_ back," Angela says, beaming as she gives her a firm handshake. Angela is his height, and even as Bella can't see much of her, she can tell she's equally attractive.

It's daunting to realize how much sense Edward's earlier behavior toward her suddenly makes. She wishes it didn't. She wishes she'd seen this coming, or realized how likely this is, but she hadn't. Because, all hopes and delusions aside, the girl in front of her belongs in his world. She does not.

"I thought you weren't coming 'til Tuesday," Edward says.

"Wasn't planning on it," Angela replies. "But there's a blizzard heading northeast, and I wanted to make it before that. Anyhow, I have mountains of supplies to unload." She's touching his shoulder, smiling at him, and Bella hates to find the gesture so familiar. Because it's what she does. It's how she shows her affection, and it will surely kill her to see Edward be equally affectionate with Angela. But before she can excuse herself, Angela looks at her. "Edward's a great host, isn't he? I bet he's boring you to death with all the hiking."

"It's been super dull, yeah," Bella replies. "Especially all the life-saving and the grizzly-meeting. Nearly fell asleep from boredom."

Angela stares at her before laughing. "Life-saving?" she asks, turning to Edward. "What did you do?"

"Do you need my help?" Bella asks, interrupting. "Unloading, I mean. Or do I have time to have a shower?"

"You must be exhausted," Angela says, smiling. "Have a shower. We've unloaded stuff before. We'll be fine."

It feels wrong, somehow, to leave them on their own, but Bella isn't sure she wants to witness the depth of their relationship. So she leaves them, relieved when she finds gran before her dogs, and together they make a fire in the shed-looking building they use as a bathroom. She tries hard not to think of the situation and how to handle it, but it's useless.

"The water should be lukewarm in a half an hour and warm in an hour," gran says, observing her unnaturally slumped posture. "I'll come get you at half to nine, okay?"

"Thank you," Bella replies, knowing Edward must've told gran about her fear of dogs, but the smile dies on her lips. They stare at each other, with Bella sitting on a stump next to the fire and gran standing in front of the door, stuffing hair under her coat. Pressing her lips together, Bella fights the urge to ask her about Angela, about Edward's feelings, about everything, but gran has known Angela for longer. If anything, she'd probably take her side, whichever side that is.

Quietly, Bella asks, "Should I leave?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Should I leave?" she repeats. "I could ask Angela to take me with her, and then ask his brother to take me to Anchorage. I'll ask grandpa to help me pay."

Gran, who'd prepared to leave Bella to her shower, slides a stump on the other side of the fire, and sits, elbows resting on her knees. "What happened?"

Bella takes a breath, staring at the uneven ground beneath her feet, avoiding her eyes. "He kissed me."

There's a smile in gran's voice. "And that's why you're ready to leave?"

"No," she replies. "It's his reaction. He looked like he'd done something wrong. Like he regretted it. I don't understand. Why would he do it if he knew he'd regret it? Maybe… maybe he felt guilty for not returning my feelings, and now he's… he has her. And maybe I… I think I've spent so much time wishing and hoping for his little actions to mean something, I'm living in a little world of my own where he returns my feelings. But—why would he? He doesn't see how I could belong here. Did he tell you we were going to talk tonight? Because we were. But, maybe… he could've just wanted to tell me he was going to propose to Angela."

Gran stares. "What makes you believe he's going to propose to her?"

"He has a ring. He got really awkward after I saw the box. He told me he'd explain but never did, and—shit, what if that's exactly what he wanted to talk about tonight?" Sniffing, Bella looks up. "Do you know if it's for her? You can be honest."

"I don't. But I certainly hope not," gran says, frowning. "He's got a ring, you say?"

"Yeah," Bella replies. "Carries it with him at all times, too."

"Really?"

Nodding, Bella grimaces, feeling her throat tighten. "Am I delusional for believing he could feel something for me?"

Her jaw twitches as she tries hard not to cry, but, watching her, gran stands and squeezes her shoulder. She envelops Bella in a hug the moment she stands, and Bella hides her face in gran's scarf. "I'm sorry," she says. "I'm rarely like this. I guess I'm… I'm so exhausted from all the push and pull Edward is doing. And I wish—I wish I could call grandpa. I need to hear how stupid it was to come here."

"I can't assure you because Edward doesn't like me up in his business just like I don't want him up in mine, but… talk things out. Tonight, or tomorrow, after sleeping on it. He hides behind silence more than he cares to admit."

Bella squeezes gran, sniffing. Gran pulls out a handkerchief for her, smiling. "Between you and me, I think that boy is in knots not knowing how to deal with love."


	30. Day 12: Past Midnight

: :

Having twirled a bottle of frozen shampoo in a bowl of hot water, Bella waits, deep in thought, before she has a short, lukewarm shower. Gran is already at the door by the time she's getting dressed, and when Bella tries to leave the house, gran stands in her way. She's eyeing her as if trying to figure out if she's been crying, but instead of questioning, she says, "Up, on the stump."

"Why?"

"I'm giving you a piggy-back ride."

"Surely not," Bella replies, unsure whether it's okay to laugh. "You're—"

"I am neither weak nor old, so choose your words wisely, young lady. Angela saw a wolf nearby. Wolves make Blackfoot anxious, and there is nothing I can do about it. So hop on."

Unsure but compliant, Bella feels a strange urge to have a picture taken of herself as gran, true to her word, carries Bella from one doorstep to the other, only putting her down once they're on the porch. Most of it is covered by boxes, as is the hallway, and they watch in silence as Edward and Angela round the corner, carrying a long, metallic structure—a piece of a solar panel—to the shed. Gran lets her know she's going on a small hike—because, clearly, that's your first instinct upon hearing there's a wolf nearby—so Bella enters the house alone. It's damp and chilly in spite of the newly-lit fire in the fireplace, and she doesn't take off any of her clothes as she crouches in front of Alice, daring to pet her growing puppies. Bella refills Alice's water bowl and puts food on her plate. She's in the middle of pulling out her sleeping bag from their torn backpack when Edward and Angela arrive. Angela's laughter is disgustingly beautiful, but Edward seems remarkably awkward-looking behind her.

Perhaps to protect herself does Bella hold her sleeping bag on her lap when she faces them.

"I, uh, I think I'm going to turn in."

Angela's smile, if possible, turns brighter, but Edward takes off his mitten and reaches for her forehead. For a brief, wonderful moment, she can feel his calloused yet gentle fingers against her face.

"Are you alright? It's not even nine yet."

The concern in his voice is killing her.

"I guess I'm just tired," she replies. "Long day and all."

Edward observes her face, frowning, but eventually, he nods. "Of course," he says, eyes holding hers. "I'll go bring some wood for the fireplace."

"That was brilliant," Angela says when the front door has closed, taking off her coat. She's lean, almost boyishly so, she has gentle eyes and, an enviably freckle-free face. She turns to Bella, still beaming. "Aren't you just darling," she says, leaning against the table as she watches her sleeping-bag hugging form. "You already caught on. Could you take the bedroom and leave us the living room? We'll need the privacy, if you catch my drift."

"Of course," Bella says in the strongest voice she can manage.

"Excellent," she gushes, pinching Bella's cheek before leaning to take one of Alice's puppies in her lap. "I'm glad his face has cleared out," Angela continues, cuddling the puppy against her face. "Did you see his face the way it was before? I mean, ew."

Bella hugs her sleeping bag closer to herself. "I'll just take the bedroom then."

"Brilliant."

Once in the bedroom, Bella carefully places her sleeping bag on the single bed. She sits on it, facing the window. Wrapping arms around her knees and gazing at the stars, she tries to remember all the myths Edward told her about constellations, but all she can think of is how much she thought had changed since that night.

It shouldn't matter, none of it should. If that Angela girl makes Edward happy, who is she to stand in their way?

She hears stomping, rustling, and firewood clash on the ground. "Where's Bella?"

"In the bedroom."

"Is she alright?" Edward asks, and footsteps come closer. "She can sleep here, next to the fireplace. I'll go—"

"She was exhausted. Let her sleep."

Footsteps stop. "Of course," he says, and Bella's heart thumps in her ears at his worried voice. She can hear him sit, but she can't be sure. Seconds pass before Angela mutters in a voice so low she almost can't hear it, "It must be a difficult time for you."

A difficult time? A _difficult_ time?

"It's fine. I'm fine."

"No, you're not. But it's okay," Angela continues, voice low and gentle. "I'm here."

"Angela," Edward replies, and Bella is not sure if it's a groan or a warning, but she doesn't care to find out. She finds the MP-3 player she hasn't used in two weeks, and turns up the volume to the maximum. She curls up against a tiny pillow, gazing at the stars above the lake as a single song repeats itself for hours. It's past midnight when door creaks and she hears fire crackle. The door closes. Footsteps come closer, and she's sure she can feel Edward crouch above her when he brushes hair from her face.

"Bella?" he whispers. "Are you awake?"

He sighs, touches her cold hand and starts tugging the sleeping bag from under her. When he's done, he unzips it, places it on her and tucks the edges under her body. It's painful, having him there. He shouldn't. She shouldn't let him. But it feels so precious for him to still care about her, if even just as a friend. But it hurts, too.

He sits on her bedside, tugs at the edges of her sleeping bag so that it would cover her shoulders, and sighs again. She doesn't move as she listens to him breathe, brushing her hair with his fingers ever so slightly. The bed dips when he leans closer to her face to maybe check if she's sleeping, she doesn't know. She doesn't move. Eventually, when the mattress tautens, she decides to turn around, and the second his eyes meet hers, he snaps his hands away.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, sounding agitated. He stands up. "I didn't mean to wake you up, I'm sorry. I'll leave, let you sleep."

"It's alright," she replies quietly. "Can you sit for a sec?"


	31. Heart In Her Sleeve

: :

He hesitates but sits, and doesn't run his hands through her hair anymore. He's in a white T-shirt and pajama pants, and she feels this intense loss for having lost him without a fight. She has no right. In the dim light of the snow and stars and a slice of the old moon, she offers a smile she hopes is assuring.

"Are you happy here?" she whispers.

"Yes."

She bites the inside of her cheek because that's what she wants, right? For him to be happy.

"That's great," she hears herself whisper, faux cheerful and lost in this knowledge. She wraps arms around her knees and squeezes. "I need to apologize for my behavior. I've been out of line. It's no excuse, but I didn't know you had—I'm just sorry." She slips a hand out from under the blanket and into his cold one and squeezes it, but takes it back before she starts sobbing into his chest. "If you tell her about our kiss, just say it was my fault and you're like the brother I never had or whatever."

"I don't owe—" he starts, but then his eyes snap in hers and he gets this really intense look before he stands. "Of course," he says, but he sounds far away and hurt and it makes no sense at all. "Of course. I should've realized… but yes."

"Yes what?"

"Nothing," he replies, like he's on auto-pilot. "I'm an idiot."

"If something happened with Angela, I'm sure you can fix it. She sounds like a—reasonable girl."

He lets out a quiet, sad-sounding laugh. "I need to go."

It's unfair how hurt he sounds. It angers her. Because he doesn't have the right to sound hurt. He doesn't have the right to be happy with Angela but upset with Bella when he thinks she no longer feels anything for him. It's unfair for him to want her to want him but not want her back, and when the door closes after Edward with the faintest of clicks, Bella jumps up. She pulls on layers after layers of clothes when she hears the front door close, and tiptoes through the living room, careful not to look toward the fireplace for fear of what she might see.

From the window in the hallway, she sees Edward heading toward the lake. He's climbing down the shore of the small but steep bay by the time she's out of the house, scarf flailing in the wind as she jumps downstairs. She's angry, and the thought of dogs or wolves doesn't cross her mind as she picks up a jog, calling out Edward's name. But he's upwind, and when he neither hears nor sees Bella, she growls in frustration.

She's furious. Why does he have to act like this? How can he prefer the company of the girl he'd yet to explain his relationship with, but act hurt when she apologized for making a move? He had no right to be hurt. No right. And she's going to make him listen. Once and for all. It might cost her his friendship, but she's beyond furious, and they aren't going to make it anyway as friends in the long run. She knows that. Maybe he does, too.

Shivering, Bella climbs down the lakeside, choosing a shortcut, scratching her hands and tearing her scarf in her haste to get to the ice.

"Edward!"

He turns his head, mid-step. His shoulders are hunched, eyes hard and hands in his pockets, but he stops walking. He blinks, mouth slightly agape.

"You _are_ an idiot! Do you even speak in full sentences? Can't you just—wait. I'll come there." She wraps her scarf around her neck, taking a few steps back before pushing herself off the shore.

"Bella, don't—"

It's not a high jump, but in mid-air, seeing Edward starting to run to her, Bella realizes she chose the wrong spot to do it. Because, instead of landing like she would have had she been patient and walked along the shore for ten more feet, she plunges feet-first through the fragile ice above springs and into freezing water. Bubbles slide up against her body. Cold prickles her skin as she emerges, gasping for air. Her shoes and coat drag her down, and she tries to push elbows on the ice. It's too fragile.

At least fifteen feet from her, Edward climbs on the shore. He makes a slight curve to find something for her to hold on to, and runs back to the shore with an old and dried but thick piece of wood. Having made sure the spruce tree branch next to him holds his weight, he grips it, leaning over the water as he holds a stick out to Bella. She can brush her fingers against it, but it's not enough. She starts beating the ice closer to the shore with her hands and elbows.

"How deep is it?!"

"Don't look for land with your feet," he replies, supporting one of his legs behind a stump when Bella gets hold of the stick with both of her hands. He lifts her out of the water, turning the stick enough for Bella to land on the shore. She's hyperventilating in the middle of shrubs when Edward crouches next to her. She's pale, shivering and staring at his face like she's never seen him before, and Edward wonders if that's how vulnerable he seemed to her not even a week ago. He wraps her arms around his neck as he lifts her.

"Gotcha," he says, voice gentle when he starts walking to the house. "You'll be okay."

Wind blows against one of her feet. Her shoe is missing. The shock of cold is replaced by numbness, and Bella brushes her dripping mitten against Edward's beard. He looks alarmed when he locks eyes with her.

"You're okay," he repeats, voice barely a whisper. He puts her down in the empty living room, and even though Bella is fully coherent if shaken and shivering, she observes Edward when he starts taking off her clothes. She knows she's not as hypothermal as he'd been, but in his worry and haste to get her warm, he's making her feel precious, so she doesn't tell him she's okay.

"Where's, uh, Angela?"

Her voice slurs slightly, so maybe she's not as fine as she'd thought. Edward pulls off her T-shirt.

"She went home before the blizzard hits," he replies, unbuttoning her pants. It's a strange sense of near-numb warmth that prickles her skin. She raises each leg like Edward tells her to, and looks up at him as he encases her jaw. His hands feel hot, and she can feel her teeth chatter.

"I'm going to take off your bra, alright?"

He fumbles before Bella manages to unhook it with her own trembling fingers.

"I'm sorry this is awkward for you," she says, holding his gaze when he makes her sit on the couch, between his sheets, and pulls blankets over her. She's shivering more than she realized.

The couch wasn't even folded out into a bed.

"Don't be stupid," he replies. "It's not awkward."

"It is. And you're angry."

"There's no time to be angry." He tucks the edges of his blanket under her, and finds one of his towels to put under her wet hair. "I'll be right back."

The sheets smell like Edward. She stares at the embers in the fireplace until he returns. He puts the teakettle on a cutting board on the carpet, and takes off everything other than his boxer-briefs before slipping under the blankets, lying half on top of Bella. He feels scalding against her skin.

He rests elbows on either side of her face, but the couch is so soft his nose is barely above hers. So he turns his head, cheek grazing hers, and whispers, "Warm?"

"Mhmm," she replies, lifting her back when Edward slips one of his arms under her, pulling her against him. "Why did you run?" she asks.

He exhales against her ear, and breath has never felt so hot.

"You need to get warm." he replies. "Let's talk in the morning."

"All we do is postpone this fucking talk," Bella says, wrapping arms around Edward's back and feeling him flinch. "Sorry." She lets her hands fall, and if her lips weren't trembling so much from cold, they might've trembled from the tears in her throat.

"No—it's okay," he whispers, wrapping fingers around her wrist and putting her arms back around him. "Just not too high. My bruise, it's still…"

"Right."

The embers are blurry in the distance when she turns her head, but she's smiling through her tears. "So, do you think an alternate universe exists in which you love me back?"

She lets her words hang in the air, pressing lips together to stop them from trembling, before Edward pulls back to look at her face. Tears trail down her temples. He blinks at her, mouth agape, an indecipherable expression on his face. Fully aware of what she just did, Bella sniffs, daring to look in his eyes. Her smile is sad.

"Because I think there is one, but it only exists in my head."


	32. Daring to Hope

: :

Edward stares, unblinking. He slides his arms out from underneath her to rest his elbows next to her face and wipe damp hair from her forehead. The side of his nose brushes hers before he pulls far enough to focus on her eyes. His own are wide.

"Did you just—"

Bella smiles, pressing lips together, sniffing. She shuts her eyes and nods.

"Bella…"

Her name has never been said with so much emotion, but instead of opening her eyes, Bella presses her cold palm against his lips. "Let me get this out, okay? I promise I'll never come on to you again if you let me talk before rejecting me."

"I bouldn—"

Bella smiles through her tears, and when she lets go of his mouth, he leans so close to her face his beard tickles her chin. He's unabashed about his proximity, fingertips grazing her skin, eyes wide.

"I wish, for one day, I could be the girl you're looking for," she says, sniffing when she opens her eyes. "The one you really want. Not just this hot-cold guilt-ridden affection you show me, but honest to god, love. I could straighten my hair and hide my freckles and be like Angela. I just want to be that girl for one day to feel how amazing it would be for you to actually want me. Just for one day. I'd bottle it up and live in that bottle whenever I feel down. Maybe a few years from now, I'll meet some guy who'll make me feel a fraction of what I feel for you. And I'll be able to recognize it. It wouldn't be you, of course, but I'd have to learn to live with that."

Edward's elbow slips off the towel, and he falls against her, chest to chest, mouth against her ear. "Fuck," he whispers. "Don't say that."

Once again, Bella presses her semi-numb palm against his mouth. Her smile is broken. "I just—I hope Angela feels one tenth of what I feel for you. Because maybe I'm not as pretty, but I would've loved you mad. You have to know that. And it probably means nothing now, but I just… want you to know. Before I leave and never see you again. I love you. It hurts, but I do. So much. And I know you said you weren't interested, but I still fell in love with you—so hard. Stupid, am I not? So stupid. Maybe it's genetic."

Edward doesn't have to pull back much to see her face, but when he does, he looks like her tears could bring him to his knees. "Don't cry," he whispers, brushing thumbs against her temples. "Please."

"You cannot be affectionate with me without meaning anything, okay? It kills me. I get delusional."

"Bella—"

"I just want to know." Looking in his eyes, she struggles not to look like she's on the verge of sobbing. "Have your—feelings changed?"

"No."

Tears trail on her temples from her closed eyes, and she nods. "Okay."

"No," he repeats, arms trapping her face. "That's not what I mean." His arms are everywhere, or so it feels, and he rests his forehead against hers. His beard is prickly and breath warm. "I love you, too," he whispers, grinning, unshed tears in his eyes, mouth brushing against her cheek. She can feel it move. "To an extent so pathetic that if you left never to return I would've given you my ring. Even if you'd changed your mind about me. Because… I'm mad about you, Bella. Always have been."

She purses her lips in a line. "You don't have to say that just because you feel guilty."

Edward brushes thumbs over her eyes to draw her attention, and when she opens them, she's startled by the unshed tears in his eyes. She's never seen him allow himself show his vulnerable side, not like this, not knowingly. But, in spite of his flushed cheeks, he doesn't tear his eyes from hers until Bella blinks, lowering her own when she touches the dip between his collar bones. She sniffs.

"Don't say any of that unless you mean it."

He lets himself fall against her, softly enough not to crush but hard enough to feel her heartbeat. She realizes how much she's shivering when Edward slides both arms around her, wrapping her in a blanket cocoon and holding her to him. He starts trailing a line on the side of her body, from under her armpit to her hip before, finally, he presses his fingers into the skin on her waist. His touch is heated and different and there's an edge to his voice.

"I mean it." His lips brush against her ear as he whispers. "I love you."

"But you rejected me. You looked terrified after you kissed me. And then you—I don't understand. Did you sleep with Angela?"

"What?" He flinches. "What in the world, Bella? No."

Relieved, she exhales, hiding her fingers in his hair before she wraps arms around his neck, pressing him against her in return. Suddenly, she feels very naked, and not just physically.

"Do you really?" she whispers, fully aware of the vulnerability in her voice. She's still shivering.

"Yes," he replies next to her ear. "So much."

He pulls back, and she's never seen him look at her so tenderly, with so much fire in his eyes, or maybe she'd never recognized it. But when she does, it makes her aware of his body's warmth. It sends butterflies to her stomach. It tingles.

"I know you're not really into talking, but I'm… I'm so confused," Bella says, quietly. Daring to hope. "Will you explain?"

He sighs before kissing the edge of her mouth, failing to stifle his smile. His thumbs keep brushing over her hair. "Okay," he replies, voice almost nonchalant but eyes looking like he wants to protect and cherish. "But first, you're going to drink half a gallon of tea. You're freezing."


	33. Day -656: First Date

: :

Edward and Bella grew closer over late night games of euchre, and Bella was fascinated by how little he—sometimes unbeknownst to himself—fell under conformities. Not only did he not mind snow, blizzards and cold, he seemed to embrace snowy days. Although he preferred to walk through parks, he thought of them as pieces of nature put in prison, and if he couldn't tell bird species from a distance, he found a book that told him the answer. He walked differently, noticing tracks and traces on snow most people didn't care for, keeping to himself. He sometimes wore foam earplugs as he walked to muffle traffic noise.

He didn't own a car. He'd learned to fly a bush plane under his gran's wing as a teenager and received his private pilot license at eighteen. Subsequent commercial pilot license and air traffic pilot license—Bella had no idea it took so many licenses to be able to ferry passengers—allowed him to be the youngest bush pilot at the Denali National Park and Preserve. Five summers in a row, from May to September, giving flight seeing tours and flying around Mt. McKinley was all he did. He got used to spending the night at hotels and motels within the park; unless he got to go home, which he always did if given the chance. It wasn't unusual for him to have to find lost hikers, provide freight services and other unscheduled flights.

By the time he moved to East Lansing, he'd spent enough time around people for the novelty of society to wear off, but his chosen solitude (even around people) and preference of nature's company meant that, most of the nights he spent in town in Denali National Park, he went on long hikes in the park instead of getting acquainted with culture, people and the social norms that accompanied the two.

He felt uncomfortable, shopping in a crowded Wal-Mart, and even without saying, Bella could tell he thought people didn't or couldn't appreciate the world they were living in.

He didn't take food for granted. Where he lived, if you didn't catch game, you sometimes didn't get to eat. That was it. Not that he'd been going hungry for years, but there was a difference between giving a few bucks for a hot dog and tracing an animal for four hours in order to eat. He didn't say it, of course, when he saw someone throw food away, but he didn't have to. It was written on his face, on the way he turned away his head, lips pursed.

He appreciated the actions of the people around him by cooking for them. He could cook amazing meals from scratch.

Edward had been right, though—he was fairly naïve in the simplest of things. He'd landed at Rosalie's after he'd had a spoken arrangement with his previous landlord. Without a contract, there was nothing he could do to prove their agreement, and it was easy to throw him out with barely a day's notice. Aware of his naïveté but not knowing how to fix it, he became self-conscious around people. He was sometimes the butt of jokes because he didn't know better but to believe what was said. Bella walked this line carefully, always making sure he knew when she was being sarcastic and when she meant what she said.

After she gained his trust, he became comfortable with her in the most amazing way. He was naturally quite silly, he laughed, he made her feel precious. He was the introvert to her extrovert and she loved it. She really liked him.

Despite her fascination, she felt bad for making references to pieces of culture, books, movies and events that he didn't know, but soon after his initial embarrassment, Edward convinced Bella to show and teach him the things she talked about most. During the weeks and months that followed, they spent their nights immersed in Sherlock Holmes, Indiana Jones, Harry Potter, four season's worth of _Breaking Bad_ and everything in between. She taught him a thing or two about East Lansing and the Mitten State, taking him to see a Spartans game and laughing when he spit out his first sip of Vernor's at the Peanut Barrel.

He didn't say much, but his words seemed so clear to her in his actions. He took care of her, of people dear to him, and it didn't take long for her to find herself daydreaming about him. They never approached the topic of significant others, and while she made it clear she was single, he never made a move. Maybe it was his different upbringing, not knowing how to make his feelings known, maybe he had someone back in Alaska. Maybe he didn't realize how much he was unintentionally leading her on, or maybe his idea of friendship consisted of nights spent together cuddling on her couch and re-watching _The_ _Lord of the Rings_ that he so loved.

Bella wished she had been there the first time he saw a movie, because if seeing him watch that trilogy was anything to go by, it must've been an over-whelming experience for him.

She knew he would feel guilty for having led her on without knowing it if she put their friendship on the line. She didn't want to take advantage of his unassuming nature, but the more she got to know him, the more his sweetness muddled her decision not to risk anything.

But winter gave way to wet shoes and budding leaves, and in the middle of May, after a cozy Saturday morning with Edward, Bella gathered the courage to ask him out. He agreed with a small smile, and she spent the next six days feeling like she could burst with happiness. So on Friday at seven PM, after a twelve-hour shift, Bella changed into a yellow dress. Seth and Leah wished her luck before leaving, but Eric arrived for his night shift and whistled as Bella put on her earrings behind the counter.

"Who's the lucky guy?"

"Edward."

He smiled. "Yeah? The guy who throws kitchen knives at a dartboard in the middle of the night when he can't sleep?"

"The very same," she replied, smoothing over her dress. Seeing as they had no clients, Bella twirled. "So, tell me. Too short? Too long? Too bright?"


	34. Or So She Thought

: :

Eric sat on the barstool-looking chair, not rushing to change into his work clothes, and leaned against the counter. He motioned for her to twirl again, which she did.

"Why are you always wearing black pantyhose? They're not even see-through."

"Oh, shut up," she replied, smiling. "The pantyhose stay. Anything else?"

"Lose the necklace. Too bling-bling with those earrings. Why is your hair up?"

She slipped the necklace in her purse, removed her hair clip and dramatically shook her head as her hair fell on her shoulders.

"That's why," she said. "I look like a poodle."

"A very cute poodle."

"But a poodle nonetheless."

"Has he even seen you with loose hair?"

"Of course not." Regardless, she left her hair down only to find her reflection on a nearby TV-screen. She grimaced. "You're sure?"

"Positive. You have that Keri Russell cutie-pie thing going on with your hair."

"If she had a kid with a poodle."

"But a very cute poodle," he repeated. Bella laughed and put on a jacket.

"You show him what yoopers are made of. And if he's not mad about you by the end of the night, he's batting for my team."

"That's very assuring," Bella replied, smiling. "Thanks. You have a great night, Eric. Coffee's at the back."

"Best news I've heard all day!" Eric shouted after her, and a client took a long look at both Bella and Eric before entering the pharmacy. Bella didn't mind the windy night because she felt sick with nerves and anticipation as she drove to Dublin Square. The pub was packed, of course, as it often was on a Friday night, but even as Bella said hi to many of her friends and course mates who wanted her to join them, she kept searching for Edward.

But when she found him, he was surrounded by six co-workers. Three of them were still in their khaki-colored pants with neon stripes at the bottoms, and when Edward raised his eyes, mouth agape as he stared at her, she wanted to disappear. Because even in her jacket, she was overdressed, embarrassingly so. For a fraction of a second, she thought of doing a one eighty and never looking back, but the moment passed and instead, she plastered a smile on her face and walked up to the firemen. Jasper gave her a curt nod.

"Good evening, gentlemen. Couldn't resist starting without me, eh?"

Introductions were made, and even though a chair was produced for her, she fought her way to sitting next to a somber-looking Edward. Drinks and food were ordered, and Bella got to know Edward's colleagues a lot better. Some of the younger-looking ones attempted to flirt with her, but Edward? Not once. He sat still, looking at the beer glass in front of him, only briefly raising his eyes when one of the guys said something. When Bella spoke, he kept his gaze firmly on his beer. It hurt.

After two of the firemen found themselves college girls and brought them over, everyone's attention was diverted. Bella sat back, leaning closer to Edward when she slid her hand in his under the table and squeezed it.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," he replied, staring at his glass.

"That's such bullshit," Bella whispered. "What happened?"

"Nothing." He smiled tightly in her direction, never making eye contact. He kept trailing the edge of his glass with his index finger.

"Why are all your firemen at the MSU campus?"

"It's Jasper's birthday."

Bella looked over at Jasper's empty chair—he'd gone out to smoke.

"Twenty fifth of May," she said. "Of course." Looking at their joined hands in his lap, she took a breath. "I thought we were going to have a date. A date, date. Not that I mind this, but… next week, maybe? Are you free on Wednesday?"

Edward shut his eyes, squeezing her hand before letting it go. "I'm not interested in that," he muttered, barely audible. He wouldn't look at her. Her hand felt very awkward without his, so she clutched her palms together in her lap.

"Okay," she whispered, like it was any other word she'd said. Suddenly, the music was too loud, the voices too close, laughter too happy. She put the money for her share of the meal under Edward's plate and pushed back her chair, but he got hold of her wrist before she could stand.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," she replied.

He stared at his glass, and his voice was quiet. Pained, almost, if she didn't know any better. "I didn't mean to make you leave."

"You're not," she said, motioning for him to let go of her. He did. "I just—I misunderstood. Shit happens."

"I'll come with you."

"No," Bella answered, squeezing his shoulder. "I'll be okay. You stay, get to know your co-workers. I'm sorry I misunderstood." She pulled on her jacket, offering some generic apology in the table's direction. The firemen were surprisingly reluctant to see her leave, but she wasn't paying much attention. She'd already walked away from the table before she turned, took a few steps back, and leaned over Edward. "Give me a call when you need a sober driver, okay? Whenever you're done." She paused. "Or take a cab. Make sure Jasper doesn't drive and that nobody sits in his car. He can be reckless. If you know you won't be sober enough to make him sit in a cab, make sure one of your guys takes care of it."

For the first time since Bella entered the pub, Edward lifted his eyes to look at her, and she was taken aback by how broken he seemed. He stared at her dress, her hair, and finally, settled on her eyes. His gaze, intense and humbling, gave her goose bumps. Regardless of her heartbreak, his pained appearance worried her.

"You sure you're okay?" she whispered.

He gave a nod.

"Okay," Bella replied, wrapping money in her palm and putting it in Edward's. "I know you're saving up for a new place, so… for the cab."

So quickly she couldn't even register, he'd opened her palm and put her money back in it, encasing her palm in both of his, squeezing. "No," he said, firmly. His voice left no room for argument, and Bella could feel his gaze on her back as she exited the pub. She walked downstairs, stepped left and crouched, pressing her teeth against her fist, feeling her throat burn. She took a breath, so deep it hurt, and let it out as slowly as she could. She hid her face behind her palms, taking another slow, deep breath, and leaned against the railing. The night blurred in front of her eyes, but she pressed her knuckles against her eyes and wiped cheeks with her sleeves.

"So he rejected little saintly Bella without my influence," Jasper said. Bella jumped and turned, holding a palm over her heart. Jasper was standing on her left, on the road for the handicapped, sitting on the red brick edge under the railing. He held a stub between his fingers.

"Do you see it now? Girls aren't meant to make the first move. Making a move is the guy's job."

"Oh, fuck off," Bella whispered. "He doesn't want me, all by himself. Happy now?"

"Why yes." Jasper smiled, but it felt unpleasant, smirk-like. "You ruined my future. It gives me great pleasure to see you unhappy."

"You were cheating on your pregnant fiancée. That was your choice. I was just the messenger."

"You could've fucking warned me," Jasper hissed.

"But I did, remember? I gave you twenty four hours and you chose to spend it with the other girl. That, also, was your own choice."

Jasper stepped closer. He was sober enough not to waver but not enough to swallow his anger.

"Next time, mind your own goddamn business."

"I'll mind my own business until there's an asshole ruining my friend's future. Unlike some of us, I've got too much conscience to pretend I saw nothing."

Jasper stepped close enough for their shoes to touch, and as he towered over her, Bella wondered briefly if he would hit her. But Jasper inhaled the smoke and breathed it, slowly, into her face.

"Feels good, doesn't it," he said, watching her grimace. "The pain."

She stumbled backwards just as the front door opened, and she wiped her cheeks before looking up. Edward's eyes flickered between them before he stared at a spot behind them. He clenched his jaw.

"Your birthday cake is waiting."

"Excellent," Jasper said, smiling as he skipped a couple of steps, climbing upstairs. Edward hovered on the doorway after Jasper had entered, waiting.

"Are you alright?"

"Fabulous," Bella answered, grinning widely while tears shimmered in her eyes. She wrapped arms around herself. "Have a great night, Edward," she whispered, turning away, walking on the semi-dim pavement toward her car. She thought she heard Edward call after her, but she didn't have the strength to stop and listen.

It took her eight minutes to get home. Even after she turned off the engine, she sat in her car, watching. Emmett's and Rosalie's lights were on, and she could see their shadows move inside. Bella pushed off her shoes, lifted her feet to the passenger seat, and dialed her grandpa's number. It was minutes past ten PM, and he wouldn't be going to sleep for another half an hour.

"Forty one, a couple of clouds, mild wind," grandpa answered, a smile in his voice. Bella sniffed, wiping her face, and she couldn't help but smile back.

"Fifty four, no clouds, but the wind is strong," she replied, taking a deep breath. "So how's my favorite person in the whole world?"

"Are you referring to my knee?"

"Always. I have no concern for the person attached to it."

"My knee is flattered. He's been rebellious today, but we're happy. How are you, sunshine?"

Bella sniffed, pressing her lips together, struggling to answer.

"Bella?"

"Yes," she replied. "Still here."

"What happened?" grandpa asked, and the concern and love in his voice squeezed her in the most precious way.

"He—doesn't want me." She exhaled shakily, sniffed, and attempted a smile. "You will forever be the only man who loves me. How sad is that?"

"That is neither sad nor true," he answered. "Jim loves you."

"Jim is a parrot."

"That doesn't stop him from loving you, now does it?"

Bella laughed, but it was a mixture of a huff and a sniff. "I love you, grandpa. Five AM yoga and all."

"I thought you loved me for my tattoos," grandpa said, pretending to be offended. He paused, and quietly added, "You're wonderful, Bella. You wear your heart in your sleeve, but that's why I love you. A guy will come around who will appreciate it more than you could ever hope for. Because I won't let anyone less worthy to plan a life with you."

Bella smiled to herself.

"Should I curse the son-of-a-bitch who just rejected you? Or is it too soon? I have just the curse words today."

"No," she replied, taking a breath. "Edward is still as amazing as he was in the morning. I hope I didn't damage our friendship. You can curse Jasper, though. Same shit, different day."

"He was there?"

"Isn't he always there to laugh at my misery? Every time something bad happens, there he is."

Grandpa paused before muttering, "Do you have enough money? Are you safe?"

"Less worrying about me and more about your knee, okay?"

"Okay," he replied, not really meaning it. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Take care of your knee," she replied. "And make sure I go out with the next guy who asks me."

"I can do that."

"I love you, grandpa. So much. Weather reports and all."

She didn't put on the lights as she entered her little apartment. Instead, she pulled off the dress she had hoped would get Edward's attention, changed into pajamas and took a blanket to the couch. She brushed her teeth while putting on LoTR's first DVD, and slipped under the blanket, wishing she could see the movie in Edward's eyes. He had never, not once, fallen asleep while a movie was still playing. He gave it his undivided attention, and it fascinated her. She still found his life to be unbelievable, and so interesting. She hoped their friendship wouldn't turn awkward, and because she knew, she just knew something was up with Edward today, she reminded herself to get it out of him tomorrow. Interested in her or not, he was still her friend.

But unlike Edward, she'd been around TVs all her life, and half an hour into the movie she'd watched so many times with Edward, she fell asleep.


	35. Day 12: Warming Up

**A/N:** When a chapter starts with "Day xyz:", all the subsequent chapters that have no "Day xyz:" in the beginning happen on the same day (e.g. chapters 21 – 25 or 33 – 34). If you're not bothered to pay attention to titles, then present tense = present time in Alaska, past tense = past in Michigan. I should hide a farting squirrel in the story ('cause I can get away with a lot if you haven't noticed any of this). In all seriousness, always a pleasure seeing you read my story, guys! Thanks a bunch. :)

: :

She's holding a blanket over her shoulders to cover herself as she sits, legs wrapped in said blanket and thrown over his. His chest is bare, and he takes the mug when she's done drinking, holding it in front of her, but she shakes her head.

"The pee journey is too difficult."

Smiling, Edward puts her mug on the carpet. She shifts closer, sitting between his hip and the back of the couch, letting her knees lean against his chest. She wraps them both in the blanket. He touches her neck with his lips, breathing against it for a long moment as he finds her fingers and intertwines them with his.

"Are you sleepy?" he asks, wrapping an arm around her. His touch might as well set her skin on fire.

"No," she whispers. "You?"

He shakes his head, squeezing her. He rests his forehead against the side of her jaw before he nudges her head to make her look up. Staring at her, he seems too scared to smile but too happy to do otherwise. Suddenly, he presses a hot, quick kiss on her cold lips, smiling sheepishly as he pulls her closer, still. He hums against her temple. Cherishing his warmth, she waits.

"It was Emmett, at first," Edward says. "He had friends over and I walked in on him telling them how he thought I'd rather shoot pigeons outside Wal-Mart than enter the store with him. His friends thought he was hilarious. I stood in the hallway, leaned against the wall, and listened. He'd noticed I'd grown fond of you, and he started making fun of how out of my league you were, how educated and lively you were compared to me, and how I was the most naïve guy he'd ever met. I didn't stay to listen. I found my foam earplugs, went for a walk and… bumped into you. You ditched your friends for me just to walk in silence next to the Red Cedar River."

"I remember that. I—you gave me your earplugs to walk with them. We barely talked, but it was wonderful." She squeezes his hand. "But Emmett is not like that. Maybe you misunderstood."

"I didn't. The guy thought you could do no wrong, and I could do nothing right. I guess he treated us accordingly. And your friends… always gushing about how incredible you were and those who caught on that I liked you made sure I knew how out of your league I was. Just... a comment here, a comment there. That's how it went."

"What the hell, Edward," Bella replies, turning her head to see his eyes. "You never told me. Why did you never tell me? I would've told them to shove their opinions where the sun doesn't shine."

The edge of Edward's mouth rises.

"But if you felt at least something, why did you—" His chest shakes next to her cheek, and she lifts her chin. "What?"

"_At least something_ is definitely not how I felt," he mutters, smiling shyly. "At least everything is more like it."

Bella blinks, pressing her cold lips against his neck because that's all she can reach. "Alright." She smiles. "So, if you felt… how you felt, why did you reject me? Was it just Emmett? It's so hard to believe he'd behave like that. He's better than that."

"Bella," he replies, not quite scolding but not too patient-sounding, either. "He never wanted me to stay at their place."

"That's not true."

"You better believe it. They argued over it all the time, at least in the end. Rosalie wanted to get to know me because she's kind of like me, you know? Not many living relatives she knows about. But Emmett… I get it. He was finally back in the US to spend time with his girlfriend and then there was this strange guy stealing her time or just hovering in the background. I think… the word he used might've been… cockblocker? Is that a word?"

"Yes." Bella stifles a snicker, watching his innocent-looking eyes. "It's used for a person who prevents someone else from having sex."

"Oh," he replies, squeezing her, averting his eyes. "How apt."

She laughs, pressing her cheek against his chest to get warm. "But please continue."

He takes a breath, looking embarrassed. "That night we went out, I didn't realize you thought it was a date. I wanted it to be, but… we'd been out before, and why was that night going to be any different? So when my co-workers joined me, I didn't think of refusing them. Jasper spent the hour prior to your arrival telling me how it was just your style to take pity on some guy and ask them out but ditch them when things got serious. It just about killed me, but it made perfect sense given what you'd told me about how much you hated it when guys only saw you as wife-material. But then you—"

"Fucking Jasper." She closes her eyes. "I should've known. What did he tell you?"

Edward sighs. "Nothing I didn't already know, really. Told me how to make sure I didn't become one of those guys you pitied, stuff like that. I thought he was helping me. I thought he wanted to prevent my heartbreak. I thought he… I didn't know him as well as I thought. I was stupid. He gave me a play by play of how you'd react, and he seemed to know you so well I didn't… I didn't want you to be with me out of pity, and all he did was confirm my fears. So I reacted how he told me I should. I knew you wanted casual, and I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm everything but casual."

"Fuck," Bella says, pressing her forehead against her knees. "Fuck."

Edward pales and runs his fingers through her hair. "I'm sorry. Please forget I said that. I didn't mean to scare you."

"No. It's not that. It's just… Jasper. Fucking Jasper, I should've known."

He hesitates before cupping the back of her head and turning it to face him, but despite doing it, he focuses on a spot on her shoulder. His voice is flat. "Where you guys together, once?"

Her laughter is short-lived. "Why, were you jealous?"

He squeezes her, voice low but serious. "Immensely. When I caught you guys outside, I thought—I considered that he'd lied to me to get you to himself."

"No, no. It was never like that with him." Edward relaxes, letting out a breath next to her ear when he lets his head fall closer to her. But instead of leaning into him, she smacks her forehead against her knees and groans.

"Shit," she says.

"What? What's wrong?"

She lifts her head, and her eyes are wide. His gaze lingers before he brushes his lips against her forehead.

"What's wrong?" he whispers.

"After you, you know… rejected me, I went outside, and I was kind of… heartbroken, so I bit into my fist and cried and… you get the idea. But then—"

"I made you _cry_?" Edward asks, horrified. He holds the back of her neck and presses her against him, hugging her with all he has. "I had no idea," he whispers. "I'm sorry."

"What did you think, that you'd reject me and I'd just go home happy holly jolly? I was so in love with you, I'm surprised I held it in for as long as I did. Anyway—"

"Bella…"

"Apologies later, okay? I have them, too. Let's talk first."

He nods, but he's reluctant to do so.

"Anyway, when I got outside, Jasper said something about you rejecting me—before I'd even said anything. How did I not notice? Ugh. I would've cornered him on the spot."

"What do you mean?"

"There's no way he could've known the reason for my crying unless he'd talked to you first. Unless he knew you had rejected me. Unless he made sure you would. God, how didn't I notice? I would've kicked him in the balls and squeezed the reason for your moodiness out of you. And he—Jesus. He must've done it before, too, because he emphasized that you rejected me _without his influence_." Bella groans. "I feel like an idiot."

Edward kisses her eyelids, squeezing her. "Now, let's not mistake which one of us is the idiot here," he says, starting to trail lines on her back with his calloused fingertips. She shivers, but it's not from cold.

"Our kids are going to have a hell of a challenging childhood with two idiots as parents," Bella says without thinking, but then she blinks, blushes all over, and presses her face against his chest. "Pretend you didn't hear that," she mutters, and even though her voice is muffled, Edward squeezes her, kissing the top of her head.

"If it makes you feel better," he replies, but she's never heard him sound so light-hearted. They stare at the glowing embers before Bella speaks.

"I get it that you weren't that acquainted with dating, or maybe you were too gullible, but I still… it still hurts. Couldn't you have known and trusted me not to ask you out out of guilt? At least enough to bring it up. I just—it hurts you believed Jasper's words to be true so easily."

"But it wasn't about that, Bella," he replies. "Don't you get it? It never was. This was not about me believing whether or not you'd date me out of pity, this was about my insecurities. My own. It was about whether or not I believed _myself_ to deserve anything other than your pity. And at the time, I didn't. You were going out of your way to spend nights with me and show me the culture you grew up with, and of course you must've felt sorry for me. The poor bloke who knew fuck about life. I was—"

"But I _never_ pitied you. Please trust me enough to believe me. I find you endlessly fascinating."

"I know, Bella," Edward says softly, gripping her hair. He kisses her temple. "I know it now. But as I said, it's easy to believe a lie when it supports every insecurity you have. I was too—too different to believe myself to deserve someone as lively and worldly as you. Because… I don't know how to explain it. You know how the world works, okay? You're sociable and brave in social interactions, and I'm just… not. What's normal for you is brave for me. I wouldn't have been able to handle having you for myself for a few weeks or a month only to see you realize just how serious I was about you and… lose you. I was terrified. So intimidated by the most insignificant stuff, so over-whelmed by the power you had over me just by being in the same room. Just like I had no experience with manipulation or hidden motives, I had none with love. And I… I couldn't even label it as such, and I didn't even know what it was that I wanted. I just knew I wanted it with you."

Bella tilts her head back, and grasps the back of his head with both hands. He lets his head fall so that their noses touch. "Believing you felt nothing supported my insecurities, so it made more sense to believe you felt nothing for me. Then I saw your face after I'd rejected you, and… fuck. He told me you'd make yourself look hurt, something like that, but you were genuinely wounded and I… I caused it. I couldn't believe I had that power. I don't know anything powerful enough to make up for it, but you have to let me try."

There's a lot she still wants to clarify, so many questions she wants to ask, but he'd finally let her in, and she wants to remember the moment. She nudges his nose with hers, smiling, letting his hot breath blow on her face.

"Is your yearly quota of talking filled now? Am I going to wait until January next year to hear you speak again?"

Edward laughs, holds her jaw in his hand and presses his lips against hers. There's so much left to be said, by both of them, but it feels incredible for him to reciprocate her feelings, so she lets herself enjoy the moment. It's prickly, kissing him, but she wouldn't have it any other way. She'd imagined it, but she'd always assumed him to be just as introverted showing his feelings as he was conversing, but to her surprise (and delight) he holds nothing back, and she feels particularly precious to be privy to his passion. By the time they've pulled back to breathe, Edward has pinned her under him as he hovers above her, his knees on either side of her hips and face above hers.

"Pee break," she whispers against his lips.

He laughs, pressing a chaste kiss on her mouth before he gets up. "Peeing in a snowdrift with my girl? Just the kind of romance I'm looking for."


End file.
